When I was a little girl, visiting my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins in Daegu, South Korea, some of my happiest memories include sitting on the floor with my grandmother, feasting on slices of honeydew melon and bowls of strawberries that she’d rolled in sugar. When my mother, sister and I moved to Seoul in 1987, we spent our first autumn buying fresh persimmons from the market at the bottom of the hill below our apartment complex. To this day, I have never eaten any food more perfect in its texture, flavor and sweetness.
We moved back to the United States in 1990, and ever since, I have been searching for persimmons that come close to the ones I ate as a child in Korea. I’ve ordered them from California and checked every H-Mart and G-Mart that I have access to, to no avail.
There is something about fruit that captures our attention and lodges itself in our memories.
Our guest writer for this week is Max Heinegg. Read more about Max below:
Max Heinegg is the author of two poetry collections, Good Harbor and Going There, both published by Lily Poetry Press. His forthcoming chapbook, Keepers of the House, focuses on teaching, something he has done since 1998 in the Medford Public Schools. When not writing or teaching, he is a recording artist and the co-founder and brewmaster of Medford Brewing Company. Learn more about Max at https://www.maxheinegg.com/
Check out his books (and buy them!) below:
I have a soft spot for other poets who are public school teachers—Max is one of them. G*d bless us, one and all (LOL).
Okay, here is Max’s poem, which literally made me close my eyes and go back to my own memories of fruit perfection, and the prompts it inspired:
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