Overheard at the YMCA. Seriously, I'm walking into wash my hands and I hear this soft voice from the trio of stalls in the corner. I washed my hands for about 2 minutes while I listened to this... "Well it's all Eve. I mean, imagine wondering which of your childrens its going to be. I mean, we're all fruit. And she knew it was coming. Just imagine being her. But at the end of the day, we're all fruit. All God's fruit."
A vision of Jesus and the Fruit of the Loom dancers did the two-step in the back of my mind.
Do I need to reiterate that this conversation was happening in a stall? I imagine she was talking to a friend about a child who had done something bad, and why couldn't her "bad" child be more like her "good" child. My inner monologue stopped with the fifty-something woman ambled out, still spreading her good word on her hands-free headset. At least I can be thankful for that.
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What kind of fruit are you?
Today I'm a lemon, but on my better days, I'm a peach.
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