Isn't it funny how our tastes change as we get older? Certain things we loathed as kids are things we cannot imagine our life without now. I used to balk a bit at the strongly scented wishes for a good day as my mom made her way out the door to go to work on school days. (I love you, coffee.)
I remember wondering what my dad saw in that lumpy, bumpy, greenish-purplish skinned, creamy-green fleshed thing he loved so much. And why every single pit made its way onto our window sill, balanced on a juice glass by two toothpicks. (I came around, avocado.)
