The Morning Rasberries

According to the Oxford dictionary, raspberry is a plant that produces a tart, sweet, red composite fruit in summer or early autumn. But according to MY dictionary, raspberry is a portal gateway to my past.

I was walking in the beautiful park when a little raspberry bush caught my eye. I halted. All my senses were aroused; I could see it's crimson red color; I could smell it's unmistakable odor; I could feel its texture under my fingertips. Suddenly, I was swept back in time and I was a little child again playing in my grandparent's garden up in the mountains. I loved those early mornings, when everyone would be in deep slumber while I and grandpa would be wide awake enjoying the summer breeze and the lush scenery . His garden was his paradise, and the raspberry tree was his favorite. We watered the trees every morning and those treasured times will always have a special place in my heart. These were the times when grandpa and I bonded; we would pick out raspberries together as he told me stories about our ancestors, our origin and identity. It was exhilarating to hear about those ancient times as I hung on to every word he said. For once, I felt a part of a real family; it gave me a sense of belonging and a feeling of pure happiness and joy.

The nights spent on the balcony were unforgettable. Grandpa always made sure that there was freshly made raspberry juice on the table. Those lively nights will never be forgotten and the taste of raspberry on my lips will always be remembered. The house was so full of life and energy; children playing, adults talking and laughing while grandpa watched over us, proud of his united offspring. He was a great man; a man who I admire the most.

I am back in the park with the raspberry bush in front of me. Tears trickle down my cheeks as I remembered those old days. A raspberry, although a simple fruit means much more to me. It reminds me of my past, my origin and identity. My identity is my family. It is a constant reminiscent of the love my family has for me and of the great man my grandfather once was. Every time I see a raspberry bush I can't help but shed a few tears. Alas, I must move on. I took a few steps only to look back. I stared at it for a few minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime to me. I looked up to the clear blue skies, smiled and said "I'll never forgot the morning raspberries grandpa, never". I walked on with the sound of his laughter resonating in my ear.