Cider house rules

If you’ve been following along, you know that my life is pretty hectic right now. Yet for some reason, when my daughter’s kindergarten teachers asked for parents to chaperone a field trip, I felt compelled to volunteer. Which is how I ended up riding a yellow school bus packed with 60 children under the age of 7, and how I ended up spending a few cold and drizzly hours at an apple orchard.

But, I asked myself, how many years do I have before the thought of sitting next to her mother en route to a school trip is more mortifying than thrilling? Not many, and as I sat there playing Rock Paper Scissors, singing every bus song known to man and losing thumb wars repeatedly, I tried to shove work out of my head and just enjoy it. And I did.

Standing beside a tree, my daughter ate a whole apple for the first time (she’s always asked for them peeled and sliced), and to her, it was a revelation. She marveled at the deep red color of the apple, the crisp texture and the pure sweetness of the fruit. She was effusive, raving about it to anyone who would listen, trying to share this secret she’d discovered. Her teachers and classmates didn’t understand – it was just an apple. But I was there, and I understood and I won’t ever forget it.

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