I reach for my lunch, an apple purchased just yesterday, and bring it to eye level. I notice a few discolorations, bruising. I frown while running my fingers over the skin, feeling many indentations. I furrow my brow in annoyance. Strange that I would make such an oversight, considering how much I detest the brown blemishes which curb my appetite. I set the sullied apple back on my desk and lean back in my chair. I start contemplating how many times a simple oversight has caused me to miss out on enjoying something, anything. Quite possibly too many to remember, much less name. I glance back at the apple with even more disgust. A bruised apple, from this point, will always serve to remind me not just of it’s in-edibility, but also of my numerous oversights which have kept me from enjoyment.
I realize I'm staring. I reach to pick it up, repeating my examination with a bit more reverence, memorizing its imperfections. I begin to ponder how wasteful I plan on being, discarding this food simply due to a few discolorations. How fruitless would it be to toss it in the garbage? How many times have I eradicated seemingly imperfect things from my life, only for them to be proven valuable at a most inopportune time? I let out a long sigh, find an area with no flaw, and take a resolute bite. I’m startled, it’s quite possibly the most delectable bite from any apple I’ve ever had before. Perhaps this is what humility tastes like. It's absolutely delicious.
