When I was very young, probably around 4 years old, I remember a neighbor giving me an orange. I skipped home singing, “I Got An Orange”, “I Got An Orange”. I was so happy. However, my mom was out in the yard, and she heard me and shushed me, and said, “don’t be saying that because the neighbors will think we’re poor and don’t have any food”.
I was confused because actually, we never had the luxury of fruit. I was born in the 40’s, and we were coming out of a depression, and fruit must have been an expensive item. I don’t remember being hungry, but I do remember that getting that orange was a delight.
Then my parents separated, and we moved in with my Aunt and Uncle in town. One day, I was just sitting on a neighbor up the street’s porch. Not sure why, but I was just sitting there. The lady came out, and asked me if I wanted an Orange so I took it. I remembered the other orange incident, but I took it home anyway and told my mom that a neighbor gave me an orange. This time she didn’t scold me. She didn’t say anything so maybe she just wasn’t in a scolding mood.
I’m not sure why, but now every time that I have oranges and go to eat one, I remember those days when two nice ladies gave me an orange. I must have looked like I needed one or something. I know when looking at pictures of me and my sisters, we were very poor and did look a little like ragamuffins.
Today, an orange isn’t such a luxury and they are plentiful, but each orange reminds me of times when things weren’t so plentiful, and people did without or made do with what they had.
The Orange reminds me to never take anything for granted and to appreciate the small things like how wonderful an orange tasted to a little girl who wasn’t afforded the luxury of one on a regular basis.
