Bananas

I hate the taste of bananas now that I am in my 30s. The only way I can convince my taste buds to accept this fruit is by commanding them to go back in time to the prehistoric events of growing up in the former Soviet Union. Growing up we didn't have bananas and visit to the grocery store, especially in the winter, didn't yield any tasty results except for some occasional onions, beets and frost bitten apples eroded by worm tunnels. It was wonderful to be walking down the street with my mom and come across a long line of people. We always joined the line before we even found out what was being sold... a line meant something delicious would be at the end of it. I was excited about standing in line, the longer the line the better. Bananas were always the greenest color of green and you knew that you probably had to wait another week or two to sample them. We would put them under the bed in the paper bags and every day I would pull each individual bag early in the morning to see if there were touches of gold on any of the jungle green colored fruit. The moment streaks of yellow touched the bananas, I was begging my parents to eat the fruit that tasted grassy, but oh so exotic and delicious! I try to take myself back to those times when I eat bananas now (perfectly ripe, sweet, organic bananas), but I can only muster enough memory lane imagination to get me through eating half of a banana.