I found myself up well past midnight, two hours since everyone else had gone to bed. While they had been off dreaming, I had spent the last two hours grading lab reports, dozens of identical reports on obnoxiously blue paper, scattered data and conclusions which simultaneously display the students meager knowledge and, usually, even smaller interest in physics. Hungry and tired, I started digging around my shelves for something quick and easy to eat before getting ready for bed. My hand rested upon a plum, the last of three that I had received a week before. I rinsed it off and bit in. The plum was perfect, it's flesh was soft and sweet, yet it's skin was still tight enough to hold the fruit together, preventing the juices from running down my arms while I ate it. Enjoying my late night snack, I reflected back on the day I received the plums...
It was just a week before. I had been sitting at the kitchen table, working on homework, when there was a knock on the door. I shouted, "Come In!" and a young man entered, grinning with excitement, one hand held behind his back.
"I have a surprise for you," he said. The joy I saw in his eyes made me wonder if it was possible to make him any happier. I held out my hands to receive my gift and was surprised when he revealed a bag of plums. It was still spring, so I hadn't seen fresh plums for several months. His grin grew wider, probably in response to the look of shock I'm sure spread across my face. "I saw them at the store, and remembered that they were your favorite, so..." he shrugged and gestured to the plums in my hand. I got up, grabbed a knife, and we shared the first of my three plums.
A week later, finishing off the last of my gift, I wondered if all his joy and excitement from that night was simply in anticipation of making me happy. And sitting alone on the kitchen counter eating fruit I felt loved, all because of a boy who brought me plums.
