When I was pregnant with my first picaninny, I had this THING for dried peaches. It was not a craving, I told myself, just a preference. A preference that often saw me making a 60km round trip just to get hold of them. It also saw me uncontrollably eating them in the queue before I had paid for them. They were unbelievably fantastic - just like a dried apricot's rather enormous, tastier cousin. I devoured so many of them I wondered briefly if my baby might look slightly wrinkled and dark orange when it arrived.
Today at the health food shop I spied them. Or rather they called out to me. 'Remember us?' they bleated from the shelves. I certainly do! There they were, 11 years later, looking just as fabulous as I remembered. I breathed in that peachy smell and bought a dozen. As I nibbled on one all the hopes and unknowns of that special time, came back to me. There I was again anxiously waiting, waiting, waiting, for this baby, our baby, to join us.
I won't be consuming them in the same quantities as previously. There will be no special trips to town for them, no middle of the night snacks. But it was like running into an old friend. Look at you! What have you been up to? How did that whole baby thing work out?
I left some on the table for afternoon tea, and that little baby, now a strapping 11 year old with a kind smile and an easy laugh bit into one. And I swear a look of recognition washed across his beautiful face.
Indigo Kate x