Strawberry Blood

I remember being 7 years old living in Emporia, KS. It was a beautiful summer day, the sun was just beginning to tuck itself into the sky so there was a golden glaze in the atmosphere. My grandmother shouts for us children to come outside to see the first few buds from the strawberry tree. I remember the wind in my hair as I ran to see. I sat right next to my grandmother as she passed me the biggest, reddest strawberry for me to taste. I will never forget the taste of the sweetest strawberry I have ever eaten in my 20 years of life. 13 years later, everything my grandma had gardened, the very place where I bit into that strawberry, is now suffocated underneath a garage.