Love of Persimmon

I first ran into persimmons when J was about four years old. We were in an Asian grocery store stocking up on greens and seafood when the bright orange fruit caught my eye. They were incredibly cheap considering how wonderfully tempting they looked. So I bought a big box and that it was love at first bite. There is no other fruit that I am familiar with that triggers such happy feelings each time I see them. It's like all that perfection was meant to be in a fruit came together in this one. 

I am not counting ripe mangoes here - because there is so much nostalgia associated with it, that I don't think I could be objective about my love for them. Semi-ripe guavas with a bright pink core plucked fresh off the branch, is another fruit of the same ilk. Childhood memories could easily cloud my judgment. But the persimmon came to me way later in life and that is a more mature, unclouded love. It is a love that has remained strong and steady since though I never could get J to appreciate it nearly as much. She finds it an "interesting" fruit but is far from crazy about it. Not unlike other loves in a person's life - only they get what it means to them. To the rest of the world including those closest to them, it can often make no sense.