Dear Grandma,
I was in my garden last night, watering, tending, and speaking to the plants, when I discovered the first ripe tomato.
I tasted it this morning, in disbelief at its rich colour, at the pattern of seeds encased in various pockets within the fruit.
I was reminded of all the August days I have walked into your home, greeted with a table of tomatoes, of sun-gold bursts of delight and rubies so large they crossed the palm of my hand. Summer tastes like your tomatoes, and I will always be reminded of who I am and where I come from with a taste of them.
Thank you for this gift you have given me, a taste of summer, a taste of childhood, and a return to the being I have always been.
