The Grape Tree

The other day, at the grocery store, I mistakenly picked up a bag of grapes with seeds.

I rarely pay attention to the grapes I’m buying, other than to make sure they’re in good shape and are reasonably priced.  I never pay attention to whether or not the packaging says “seedless,” because I have never, even accidentally, picked up a bag of grapes with seeds.

But you should never say never, I suppose.

Of course, I know grapes have seeds, duh.  But I guess considering that I’d never, even accidentally, picked up a bag of grapes with seeds, I kind of didn’t think they sold them that way.  Or at least, it didn’t occur to me that I could accidentally pick them up.

I bit into one and it crunched.  I looked at the bag.

Hmm.  Seeds.

So one evening I was sitting out in the yard under our starting-to-bloom-kind-of magnolia tree with a bowl of grapes, spitting out the seeds as I made my way through each juicy purple sphere.  I decided to call my mom for a quick chat.

“Did you know they make grapes with SEEDS IN THEM?” I exclaimed.

She laughed a little.  “Uh… yeah?”

“Do you think, since I’m sitting outside in the grass and spitting the seeds onto the ground, we might end up with a GRAPE TREE?”

She laughed again.

Sometimes I like imagining things might happen, even though I know they won’t.

I’m looking for magic tonight and that’s all I can seem to find.

Grape trees.

Would somebody find me one?