You’ll never believe this—they’ve created a yellow-fleshed watermelon. I never heard of one before until last week when I visited the local farmers market. The watermelons were tiny and the gal said I should try one, that they were yellow inside, but really sweet. Watermelon’s that small normally are seedless but she told me this one had seeds. And boy did it.
Since I love watermelon and it reminds me of you, I decided to give it a whirl. It seemed a little weird, but what the heck.
I chilled it, just like you said you used to do when you were younger working on the farm. Only you chilled your melons in the well. It’s about the only story I remember you telling me about yourself when you were younger. You all had so many watermelons that you’d chill them in the well, crack ‘em open and just eat the heart of the melon.
When I had cut this watermelon open, I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone—Pink Watermelon Invaded by Yellow Aliens. The yellow flesh was pretty and it tasted like watermelon. But there was something not quite right about it—whether it was not being able to wrap my head around the yellow flesh or whether I really could taste the difference, I’m not sure. I’d have to be blind folded to know.
I can never get enough watermelon—maybe because deep down I never got enough of your stories—never got enough of you.