We had anticipated the event all year long. Berry season had finally arrived! Visions of fresh raspberry pies, homemade jam, and a freezer full of luscious berries filled our thoughts. The delicate raspberries were a flamboyant ruby-red and ripe for the picking. My room mate and I were dressed in jeans and long sleeves in spite of the intense July heat, in order to protect ourselves from the thorny maze we had to work our way through. We had hitched a ride with two elderly fleshly sisters who knew the best patch in the area. Cecile and Laura both had curled tresses, white as milk, and weathered bronze skin from years of hard work.
As we chattered and laughed our way out to the field, we ran into a former employer who looked at me and my room mate and said with a grin, “I see you’ve come with two old crows.” Taken aback and speechless, I smiled weakly and the moment was gone. For the remainder of that stifling hot morning, I simmered and stewed inside that I had not spoken up in defense of our close friends.
After arriving home I just had to sit down and put my feelings on paper. I wrote a letter to our former employer explaining that although aging folks (“old crows”) may appear to be past their prime, my close companions, Cecile and Laura, were simply young, vibrant women in old skins.
A few weeks later I ran into the husband of the woman I wrote to. He said in a kindly manner, “Neet, my wife got your letter and she enjoyed it very much. She was a little confused though about the reference to two old crows. After some thought she realized you must have been referring to her comment, “I see you’ve come with two old pros.”
historyinthebaking 