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Be careful how you hold a paper bag full of tomatoes

I was holding the top of the brown paper lunch bag of garden tomatoes with my left hand as I opened the front door.
The bag ripped and the tomatoes fell.

atomato

A small piece of the bag left in my hand.

There were nine tomato’s in the bag. I paid three dollars for the fresh garden tomatoes. One dollar for three tomatoes. A neighbor put a table on the side of his yard and sold three tomatoes for one dollar. A small plastic container with a lid to place my wrinkled, three, one dollar bills.

Turn right at the last stop sign before you have to turn left and left and then a right, before you see my driveway.

The tomatoes landed on the concrete porch and one rolled out, beside the welcome mat. The welcome mat that has been walked on until welcome is a shadow.  The W a little bolder as the rest of the word fades away.

Be careful how you hold a paper bag full of tomatoes. Click To Tweet

Life is fragile. Bags rip, tomatoes fall. Bruised tomatoes.

Bruised by words, whispers, talking, mumbled hints of disdain.

“The important thing isn’t what other people think you are; it’s who you are.”
― Shannon L. Alder

A piece of the bag left in someone’s hand, and the rest on the floor.

The weight of the tomatoes too heavy for the thin bag. Perhaps if the bag was supported from the bottom, or if the bag was held close, close to the body, the bag wouldn’t have ripped.

The bag was was was wasn’t supported. The tomatoes fell.

And one rolls away.

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How careful are you when you hold a paper bag full of tomatoes? 

Please, Click here to comment, we can talk about tomatoes. Or just scroll to the bottom of the post if you are on my blog.
xo
Pamela

About Pamela Hodges

I write slice of life stories to help you know you are loved, valuable and worthy just as you are. I am a writer, an artist, and a cleaner of seven litter boxes. I live in Pennsylvania with one husband, four cats, one dog and two birds.

You are an artist. Yes, you are. Really.

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Get the FREE illustrated, sort of a comic book, “You Are An Artist.” Believe in yourself and your ability to draw. xo Pamela

  • La McCoy

    Yes. Be careful with your tomatoes!

  • Iya Hannum

    Oh, friend, I am so fond of you, fragile fierce or otherwise.

    • Hello Iya,
      My dear tomato bag holder.
      Hoping your day is full of sunshine and potty trained puppies.
      xo
      Pamela

  • Berdeane Bodley

    I don’t have to worry about bruised tomatoes as I don’t really like tomatoes anyway. When I do buy them (I know they are good for me) I buy them in the cellophane wrap, they come 5 on a vine. Life is like a tomato, very fragile!!

    • Hello Mother dearest,
      I hope Canada is treating you well today. And may your bag of tomatoes never fall.
      Sending you hugs across the border.
      xo
      Pamela

  • You’re right, life is fragile. Very fragile.

    Hope you still got to enjoy the tomatoes.

    • Hello Anne,
      The ones that got flattened, I couldn’t eat. The other ones were fine and were sliced and eaten.

      Thanks for always holding the tomatoes carefully Anne.
      xo
      Pamela

  • Bruised tomatoes, you say? Time for some gazpacho! A bruise merely means that it’s time for magical transformation to take place. 😉

    • Hello Indre Hello My Goddess,
      Oh, I should have read your comment before the bruised tomatoes fed the compost pile.
      I will look up gazpacho and make a batch in your honor.
      Yes, a bruise means it is time for magical transformation to take place. An interesting perspective on healing from wounds.
      xo
      Pamela