Understanding Berries

by Rebecca Ann Woodberry Miller

On top of the cold white snow three bright red berries stood out. Like rubies, so precious and out of place.

Henry was walking by. It was impossible not to notice them. He picked them up and put them in his pocket.

Later over at Hazels’ place he brought them out. Threw them down next to the bread on her counter. She talked about her stressful day at work, her angry coworkers. He kissed her forehead.

They ate dinner. He was happy to contribute. Assured that she had so much bread food and milk. His kind love who saved and gathered.

The red berries were a small contribution. They ate them after dinner for dessert in the nearby plaza.

Henry popped the berries into his mouth, and in an instant a vivid red haze appeared in fornt of his eyes, he twitched.

A red haze began to appear around the women in the plaz. Bright like the berries.

It whispered and bounced. It was alive. Moving like smoke.

Women’s figures became apparent, their size and height and dress. The red smoke outlined their beauty. Lines and shapes, age and weight.

It swirled like a dancer, showing off their perfection from every angle.

Hazel, sadly nodded, bursting out in tears. She didn’t need the berries to see what Henry observed. it was always apparent to her. Each figure challenged Hazels own beauty, winning.

Her tears fell, pinkish in the red fog

Henry wiped the tears away. He looked at her, with a understanding of something he hadn’t before. Tears on his fingers.

Feeling her sadness as his, seeing her demons. His chest was sore.

The little berries wore off, as he embraced Hazel, empathy a sad aftertaste.