I SLIT OPEN THE LID of the box and folded back the flaps. Thick layers of newspaper hid whatever was giving the package its heft. My brain was still fiddling--what heavy thing would be so well-packed?
But a few second later, I beheld the gift.
"FIGS!!" I cried. "They sent FIGS!" It was almost a sob. I rushed up the stairs, and exclaimed to the yard man, "Come see! I have something to show you!" He looked a little hesitant, so I added, "The box!"
Oh, yes--The box! He climbed out of bed and eagerly followed me down the stairs. "Just look!" I said, with awe in my voice, and I showed him the gift.
He was duly impressed. "Wow!" he breathed. "It's figs!!
We stood there and silently admired for a moment or two, worshiping at the altar of Precious Fruit. And then, as one, we fell on those figs and began our passionate consumption!
Have you ever tasted a truly ripe fig, Reader Dear, just plucked from the fig bush in its warm, honeyed state? Everything you may think you know about figs, it slinks to the sidelines with that first succulent bite!
And the truly ripe fig, Precious Fruit that it is, will keep about as long as a fleeting dream. You have to live in a warm sunny climate and be there near the fig tree when it offers its wealth. The only other thing...if you're ever so lucky, is to have yourself a kind, thoughtful friend or two who will go to your old home place and gather the figs and send them Priority Mail to your door! Along with that (not required, but a definite plus) you should have some sweet memories to savor with the figs.
Oops, where was I? I was so busy savoring those figs and the memories; and then I glanced over at the book I'd been savoring mere moments before. It's the one, you know, that I'd purchased just a half-hour earlier at the used-book store in the city:
It's titled: a platter of figs
!!! (Those exclamation points are expressly
in honor of the fabulous, figgy coincidence! So
sweet. So amazing.)