if the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, or if you grow where you are planted, then our story must have rolled down the wrong hill. lost fruit crying at the foot of the wrong mother.
we, too, must have fallen into each other: a horticultural mistake. the wrong breed, the wrong blend– sour notes that don’t complement this kind of sweet. thick skin hid a tumorous seed. little flesh, little fruit, little juice to savor.
and if we prune too much, if we overcut and under-cultivate, what is left but ravaged roots?
what stopped you from unearthing, from rolling a little farther,
is what stops us from starting again.
Sunita Theiss is a second-generation Indian American raised in the South. A writer and communications strategist, she lives with her husband and son near Atlanta. Her writing has appeared in Jaggery and New Asian Writing.