It’s odd, the things we remember, and forget. At lunch a bowl of bananas were served and there in the middle was a black one. I took it. I took it for my Grandpa John. Grandpa had a lot of rules at the table – chew each bite 20 times for proper digestion (he would count), no liquids with dinner or for 30 minutes after (for digestion), etc., but my least favorite Grandpa rule came from his days in the Navy down in Latin America – bananas are not ripe until they are black. Anything less than black is unacceptable and a digestion nightmare waiting on the doorstep.
We return home from Ecuador today. Seven hours on the bus to go up from the coast to Quito. Ten hours of flights and then a drive up through the snow to school in Buena Vista. Students are doing their final writing prompt right now, “twenty years from now what I will remember about Ecuador and this expedition is….”
I’m eating a black banana and with a smile watching them write.