Yesterday I was standing in between the isles in our store. Attracted by fruits, not fresh ones, but canned fruits. I guess I was picturing a cocktail at summer beaches. After a long day work and endless self-confinement in my cell, I do need something refreshing to bring me back to my body. But they look so shabby in the store. They are not glittering with colors; we couldn’t touch or smell them. They are all canned, in the same style with the same techniques—-water, sugar, probably some preservatives that won’t kill you.
Then I saw peaches. Human memories are indeed unexpected surprises. They would stay in an secret corner in the brain, waiting for the right moment to encapsulate you. My parents used to buy canned peaches in summer. It was hot, humid but all the family were waiting for the moment after dinner, to open the icy box then we could share them all together. We love the syrup in it. I could drink the syrup all by myself. There’s no such thing as two big half peaches in my memories, no, cuz, we always share with everyone around.
Now I could think of a reason to explain why we ate canned peaches rather than fresh ones. My parents are like many other parents in this world, trying to make ends meet and save some more every month. Peaches are imported luxury in our tropical little island, but they want to eat something different just like their kids do. So we have canned peaches. I was watching my friend’s feeding their daughter with shrimp dumplings they bought from Birmingham a month ago. We were calculating the price of each dumpling all together, 20p each. I believe the little one would remember the taste of dumpling all her life. It would be priceless for her.