ANN'S GIFT
A year and a half ago a small bloom budded out on our friend Ann's lemon tree, a tree she had been mothering for quite some time. It was a minor miracle for a woman without a natural green thumb. For eighteen months she diligently watered her charge. She took pride when that lemon bud eventual became a full-fledged lemon, a brilliant yellow lemon large enough to be a prizewinner at any State Fair if lemons were a judgeable category. Ann's little lemon tree used all its nutrients to nourish its one offspring. Her tree refused to grow another but after a year and a half the lemon's pulpy weight was becoming too much for its little branch to handle. Ann finally picked her lemon. Without a recipe grand enough for her lemon and the realization she had developed a bond with her lemon too strong to be the knife-wielding executioner of her charge, she now had to figure out another plan.
We have a tradition of inviting friends and family over for glazed ham, cheddar and sage biscuits and desserts on the Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving. We only ask that everyone bring what they would like to drink. Ann decided to take a different track, she brought her lemon tied with an orange bow. With this she was transferring the demise of her lemon off of her conscience and onto ours. We were now going to have to be the villain in this story...or perhaps the hero, and that's what this story will determine.
It was immediately clear that we didn't have the heart to be the executioner even if we had the culinary aplomb to change it from a prized lemon into some dazzling tasty Lemoncello dessert. After the dishes from Wednesday night's Pre-thanksgiving had been washed and put away we huddled together to devise a plan of what to do with this magnificent citric marvel.
The brainstorming went on into the wee hours of the night until we all agreed that the perfect end was to send the lemon on an adventure of discovery. Being a homegrown only child lemon its knowledge of its ancestry was limited. Maybe our trip could help her find her roots and community. With the Christmas season now upon us we all decided that we should take her to New York because if we can't find it in New York, well then it just doesn't exist.
With the wind in our wings we prepared our little lemon for the trip ahead. We bought her a sweater to protect against the cold and some nice warm boots to keep her feet dry and cozy. We all knew lemons don't have feet or legs but we didn't want her to feel different even before we left and pulled her into a world she had little knowledge of. We wanted her to feel special. After all, she was going to be really dependent on us for most everything and with the pandemic still out there we were going to have to set some rules and pose some questions. Would our lemon shrivel at the unknown our burst (well hopefully not literally) with the excitement of the adventure? Would our lemon balk at wearing a mask where required and accept the responsibility of protecting others?
By this time we were all becoming a bit attached and a bit embarrassed to be continually referring to our charge as simply "The Lemon". We were also concerned about flying without The Lemon having any ID, so we gave her a name and all the documentation she would need to fly. Annie Lee Lemon was now a member of our family.
Everything about flying seemed to thrill Annie Lee Lemon. She proudly wore her mask and was as courteous as she could be about keeping her social distancing.
New York was dazzling. She was so excited to see the sites she had only dreamed of from what she could see on Ann's TV back in Wisconsin. The tree in Rockefeller Center and Radio City Music Hall were all exciting.
The only thing that scared her was dining out. She wasn't sure about anything that showed up with a sliced lemon on the plate. But as the trip went on she started to wonder if this was really where she might find out about where she belonged.
The feeling of not belonging hit hard when she tried on the sorting hat at the Harry Potter store to see which house might be her home. If the wizards at Hogwarts couldn't help her then who could?
Destiny seemed to be within her grasp when she saw a sign for lululemon but it turned out they were no relation. Her little smile was beginning to pucker and turn a bit sour.
And when Santa couldn't come up with an answer about a land where lemons could roll free Annie Lee began a real downward spiral.
But then it happened. Almost out of nowhere it appeared under a cloud of rainbow lights.
There, in the middle of New York, right behind the new Moynihan Station was a whole city of lemons; big ones, small ones all basking on the snow and frolicking between icicles.
Annie Lee made a mad dash well more like an exuberant roll to join in the fun.
She made some great new friends both yellow and human. She put on her best party look posing and playing in a place especially made for her.
She found her happy place.
We left her there because we knew her life would be better with lemons. We know she's found a place where she belongs, meeting new friends from around the world. You can find her there if you look hard enough. She'll be the one with the orange bow. Say hello if you see her. Give her our best, just don't squeeze her too hard. She doesn't like that.
