We have been consuming fresh coconut by the dozens as of late.
Some sleeps ago, when my tummy whispered “dear human, I’m wishing for something delicious and not-so terrible for this healing body of ours,” I asked the mister to teach me how to clean a coconut, start to finish.
And so, in hours of the evening when most beings are peaceful in their beds, we cracked open a young coconut. we caught her sweet water in an oversized bowl and we passed it back and forth, our faces disappearing into the wide mouth, until every last drop vanished. We scored her flesh and lifted, piece by piece, chunks of pristine meat. With sharp utensils in our slippery hands, we laughed and talked and cleaned our little harvest, sneaking tiny bites as our pile of needs-to-be cleaned pieces dwindled.
I dare say that to clean a coconut is to be intimately acquainted with your food.
It is to establish respect for the nourishment you will be gifted; because there is no fruit without the ceremony. She will not yield without proper care.
“This, like dearest tummy” my heart says, “is what I needed, too.”
—this post was grown on the gram.