Growing up, my grandparents had a beautiful plum tree in their backyard. It was a strong tree that yielded the sweetest purple plums I had ever tasted.
Every summer when the plums would become ripe, my grandmother, my younger siblings and I would spend time picking the plums that were ripe and ready.
We would wash them together, dry them off and my grandmother would cut them up for us to eat.
My grandmother would sit, smile and watch us greedily eat the sticky sweet pieces of dark purple fruit as the juice stained our fingers and lips. She, however, would not eat the pieces of fruit she cut for us. Instead, she would simply eat whatever pieces of fruit were still stuck to the pits.
She would do this anytime she cut up any fruit for me. My grandmother would slice apples symmetrically and serve it with a scoop of peanut butter — the extra crunchy kind.
While the pieces were for me, the core of the bright green sour apple was for her. Similarly, fresh orange peach slices were often laid out in a bowl for me, and whatever was left of the core was designated for her.
I remember asking a few times why she didn’t want to cut herself some — especially since I was not yet allowed to touch a knife to do it for her. She would always respond with some variation of “this is enough for me” or “I’ll eat whatever you don’t want.”
For some reason, in my mind, that was always such a raw expression of love.
When I was studying for extended periods of time in high school, my mom would come find me with a variety of fruits in a bowl — sliced strawberries on a little shortcake with whipped cream on top, or sometimes she would prepare fruit slices with tiny little forks planted in them. These would often punctuate whatever essay I was writing or an AP Government outline I was working on.
There was true brightness in those little moments. It was an act of complete care and thoughtfulness — one that I have recently found myself perpetuating recently.
Expressions of genuine love are always found in the minute acts like washing and drying fruit, cutting into colorful objects of sweetness for another person or maybe cleaning up the pools of juice that drip onto a counter.
The expression of love lies within doing a sweet act that’s so easy for someone to enjoy and it being something they didn’t necessarily ask for.
My friend Maria from back home will sit at my counter to peel a pomegranate for an hour. Then, she’ll split it with me, even though I rarely help. She teases me and always hands me her spoon to take a mouthful.
It’s then my responsibility to clean the red liquid staining my countertop. Our relationship is always like that, I think — Maria forces me to enjoy something I really want, and I help to make sure things are how they are supposed to be.
It’s in these ways that I have begun to express my affection. I would do things like slice lemon with salt when my mom was feeling sick, cut strawberries and nutella for my friends or share cherries with my wonderful roommate, Alana.
Recently, I found myself bringing a sliced red apple and perfectly ripe purple plum to my boyfriend before his exam. I ate the remainder of the core on the plum I gave to him.
At that moment, I understood what my grandmother meant all those years ago. To nurture someone is to nurture yourself just a little bit as well. In other words, in feeding others you feed yourself.
There is something so rewarding about taking care of someone. There’s so much fulfillment when you can water the flowers of a relationship, whether that be a familial relationship, friendship or romantic relationship.
At eight or nine years old, I tried to convey my love for my grandmother by taking an entire banana — with the peel still on — and putting it on a plate. I attempted to present it to her the same way she presented plums and peaches to me.
I remember her looking at me both confused and amused, or maybe she felt endeared by my explanation of wanting to bring her a snack for once.
It fills me with a sense of pride to be able to be able to practice this form of care for someone. Maybe it’s the presentation of something sweet and beautiful or the notion that you are able to make someone’s day just a bit better.
I think we all convey our love in small ways.
It’s the “blink and you’ll miss it” type of act that doesn’t warrant or invite praise that showcases the most genuine expression of love — maybe that’s the point, right?
