PUMPKIN PICK-IN by Laura Laveglia

At fifty-four (54) years old, I still become excited like an anxiety victim.  Heart pounding, dry mouth, seeking out the most desirable orange, global beauty!  

I am taking about a pumpkin!

My dad and I had a tradition when it came to this sport.  We spent the entire day picking and choosing the most rounded, perfect pumpkin nature produced that season.  As usual we would find that perfect specimen.  Then on the way home from the farm, there was an ice cream soda waiting for me and the neighbourhood ice cream parlour   That evening our tradition continued as dad took out his magical oil crayons drawing the perfect face on our gourd.  It was a special day I looked forward to as dad and I would do some awesome bonding as father and daughter.

The day did arrive I so dreaded.  It was time for my dad, Matty Boy, to go back home.  Not only will our pumpkin hunting be missed, but the world is minus one good human being!

Now our ritual is passed down to my daughter Denyce.  My daughter and I go gourd hunting with the same excitement I had with dad.  My father may not be on this Earth physically, but I drag his spiritual body to the patch

Last week brings such warm and fuzzy thoughts, as Denyce and I went on our quest, but this time we went to a farm where you actually cut the pumpkins from the vine.  Unlike a big field of orange hues as far as the eye can see.  You would have thought we died and went to Heaven as we went around this huge farm exploring before we actually cut our victim!  Our faces were hurting from smiling too much!

After a while and I mean a great deal of time has passed, Denyce and I were in the middle of this acre upon acre of pumpkins.  We were becoming exasperated, for our beauty queen winner could not be found!  Just then I decided to call upon the great pumpkin king, my dad!  “Matty Boy, find us a country fair winner with blue ribbons and all”!  Then I went one step beyond and asked the impossible.

“Dad, Denyce loves the color pink, can you find a pink pumpkin for us”?  As fast as I said this, my eyes suddenly became heat seeking missiles as they zoned in to a certain area.  The sun’s rays poured down from the heavens illuminating a pink pumpkin!  Trumpets from angels could be heard!

There it was all by itself.  It reminded me of a Cecil B. DeMilles movie.  When the clouds dispersed and the sun shinned in all its glory!!  Yeah, you heard me right, a pink beauty queen pumpkin!

You can bet that from now on we go to the patch, we will call on the king himself!

So Matty Boy, do your thing for next year ,and this is a big one.   Get your feathered wing ready and you’re down slippers too, for there might be a bit of walking for this one.  This job might call for some fairy dust too, because next time I want a purple pumpkin!!!  Are you up for the challenge my dear old father?

by Laura Laveglia

The Unofficial 'Brit Writers and Writers Everywhere' blog.