Today I cut mangoes
Soft and overripe, bought on sale 3 for $1
I let the juice run down my hands and thought of my grandmother
As the bright orange fragrance filled the room memories wafted around me
Not of an island homeland – verdant, filled with breezes and ‘ya mons’
But of cool linoleum and A.C.
Concrete rivers leading to pavement stripmalls
A South Florida retirement community
And my grandparents house
On a canal haunted by alligators
4 mango trees anchor the house
one for each side
Julie, Hayden, Number 11, Bombay
Each type a character – a personality, quality, flavor and character I know well
My friends during long, hot summers

Picked each morning and stored in the bottom door of the refrigerator
Cold and sweet
I fumble from bed, sleep still heavy in my eyes, to choose the perfect one
Sliced with a knife, scooped with a spoon
A sweet, sticky connection to an island I barely know,

but love