I didn’t take a photo. I was too entranced by watching my son eat a peach. The way he ferociously yet gently bit into the bulging sweet fruit. Sticky juice would run down his hand, down his forearm, he’d smear it across his face. The sweetness of a summer peach, divine. A few minutes in, he chomped down and heard a loud thud; he’d hit the seed. What was that he asked? The seed, I said. Where is it? he asked. The fruit still coarsed over the seed like a muscle. He couldn’t find it, not at first.
I think this was the first time I’d watched him eat a peach and I could tell the taste and experience for him was pure wonder.