Raspberries

Mike and I had a sweet morning together, spent getting up early, hitting the farmers market, then sitting in the sun outside one of our favorite coffee shops. While walking around the square, lusting over every single fresh vegetable that I wanted to take home with me, we walked past many stands selling raspberries. It is raspberry season, finally!
I have been realizing more and more in the past year the deep emotional pulls that seemingly insignificant objects have on me. Like berries. Raspberries always bring me back to my mom. Passing the stands lined up with fresh, ripe raspberries made me miss my mom in a deep, sweet, aching way; a way that I can't really put words to. My mom loved raspberries. I can picture her, sitting on her end of the couch at the end of a summer day, eating a bowl of vanilla ice cream with fresh raspberries on top. And now I can't escape it. Raspberries will always be associated with her. And I am thankful for that. God has blessed me with small daily reminders of my mom. I can't drive past a Culver's and see the flavor of the day is something to do with raspberries and not stop and get some, because I know if we were together, that is exactly what we would do. I am learning to embrace the aching and longing that things like raspberries bring. I am learning to even love it, look forward to it. Those moments bring me back to her, they make her present, here, real. I also love raspberries, like she did. And this summer I am going to eat them until my belly is full, as well as my heart.