I lift the apples out from the bottom of the box. They’ve been there all winter. They are no longer the firm, round gourmet delights they were when first placed there. Now they are smaller, wrinkled and their warm red glow is muted.
“Might as well throw them out,” I say to myself. Then a voice from my childhood admonishes me.
“Waste not, want not.”
I’m too well trained and the apples go from the box into my waiting bowl.
As I stand at the sink, the long wrinkled peels curl and form mounds of garbage as the apples rotate in my hands. I’m surprised by the firmness of the texture under the wrinkled skins. There are no bruises; they are still fresh underneath. Soon a soft, apple scent fills the kitchen.
The slices fall swiftly into the bowl and within minutes they are steaming in the microwave. Later, sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon, I savor their familiar flavor.
The next day I am volunteering in the local nursing home. It is our turn to help with the Sunday service.
My eyes scan the row of waiting residents. Most sit in wheelchairs. Some smile back as I glance their way, others stare vacantly.
I am astounded how much they resemble the old apples in the box at home. Wrinkled folds crease their faces. Nearly transparent skin no longer shows the flush of youth and health.
I wonder if it is possible that like the apples, there is still something of value to be found underneath this outer façade.
The service is over and rather than rush away, I stop and visit. I reach for the veined hand of a wispy-haired lady on my left.
“Did you enjoy the music?” I ask and stoop for her reply.
“Oh, yes I sang solos in church choirs for years. This is the highlight of my week.” Her thin voice shares memories with me. Finally, I press her hand in farewell. Her fingers are warm but fragile in my heartier grasp.
I continue down the row of residents. Most respond to my greeting. Some seem confused but still smile as I wave goodbye.
There has been a surprising sweetness to our afternoon. It seems old apples and old people have attributes that can fulfil a function, if we look past the wrinkled skins. They can provide nourishment for the body and the soul.
