Blueberries and My Son

June 1975--My son went to day camp. He had just turned seven-years-old in April.

The first day he came home breathless, bringing home something he made. Then, he remembered. The staff had taken the children into the woods to pick blueberries. As he dug in his pocket where he stashed them just for me, his joy turned to such sadness.

You can imagine how fresh blueberries fared in the pocket of a little boy. He was crushed. The hurt look on his face broke my heart. I tried to console him, telling him blueberries were fragile. I ate the blueberries covered with pocket lint. The expression on his precious face changed to much less hurt and sad. Yes, I would eat squashed blueberries covered in pocket lint to take away his pain.

He had tried to bring me a present. It was spoiled. I praised his generosity to everyone who would listen. But, the crushed berries that stained his pocket blue were never mentioned.

I think of his little face full of happiness that changed to sadness and his sweet gesture every time I eat or think of blueberries....."Look, Mama. I brought something for you."
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Two weeks ago, I was given a gallon of dried blueberries by a friend who did not want them.
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Last week, I drove by the house of a woman who planted blueberries bushes--three. The couple who brought the house were out picking blueberries from the three-year-old bushes. I wondered if the squirrels were enjoying the blueberries. No, the homeowners said they had to fight the birds the birds for the fruit.

She offered me blueberries. I declined them because I did not stop for that reason.  She insisted and gave me a half-gallon of fresh blueberries still warm from the sun.

One problem--even the ripest and bluest of these blueberries are bitter. Why?

Your turn
Did your child ever bring you something as a surprise or gift and find it was ruined like the blueberries in my son's pocket? Why are ripe blueberries so bitter?