This world. This place. This life.

Making up stories


Last night my partner was on the phone with her mother.  “Don’t tell Heather,” she said.

Then she left the room and continued her conversation.

Yesterday was long and tiring, and my better self was done for the day.  I was feeling petty and easily wounded.

By the time she finished talking to her mom, I had a whole story made up about what she wasn’t supposed to tell me.

Turns out they were talking about tomatoes.

I love tomatoes.  I grew up in NJ eating perfect, juicy, just-ripe tomatoes from my father’s backyard garden.  Now I live in Alaska, where growing a ripe tomato is impossible without a greenhouse.

My partner’s mom was talking about how good the tomatoes in Michigan have been this summer, and my partner said, “Don’t tell Heather.”  Then she needed something in the other room, so she went to get it, continuing her conversation there.

I tried to hold on to my grievance-it felt good to be right, even though I was wrong.   But soon I had to laugh at myself, at my silliness.

Sometimes it’s just about tomatoes, and our minds fill in the gaps with our fears and insecurities.  We make up stories, trying to make sense of what we think we know.  And we get cranky about tomatoes.


6 thoughts on “Making up stories

  1. I am eating a lot of great New Jersey corn and tomatoes this summer but I haven’t seen more than a couple of stars. I am missing stars this summer. I bet you see a lot of stars!

  2. Oh, goodness.. the making up of stories! I do that too. I can have you dead in a ditch if you didn’t call when you said you would. Why do we always steer towards doom and gloom rather than what is presented to us. Our mind LOVES stories!

  3. Ok – I got 3 whole tomatoes this summer and that was it. With no rain, even the tomatoes didnt taste like they normally do. Its very discouraging to put in all that work and get nothing. Maybe I’ll make some pickled green tomatoes since I’ve been hankering for them…

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