My boys eat blueberries like candy. I’d rather they eat blueberries than candy. We buy them in large bags, freshly frozen, and we pour them liberally, summer’s bounty in a mid-winter bowl. One child— he who likes sameness and predictability— asks for them daily. For health and possibility and love, I oblige. As I thaw another handful under the cool flow of water, I remember the prick of bushes, sweetness wafting on the air, and a steep descent. The heat, the sweat, the weight, the work— All for a small pail of goodness To be picked through and washed and savored. I am suddenly aware of our family’s wealth And our poverty. Even as I rejoice over the goodness I […]