Peeling Oranges

Okay. I have a confession to make: I never peeled an entire orange in my whole life until January of this year.

I think my dad loves to peel oranges. He always peeled them for my siblings and me -- usually for breakfast. He'd get the peeling process started by biting into the rind. Then he'd peel it quickly, without paying too much attention to how much of the skin he'd left on, which was always too much for me. So I'd spend a few more minutes easily pealing the white stringy pieces off, and I'd happily eat my orange slices.

Or not so happily. I wanted my orange perfect every time. It had to be sweet; it had to be juicy. It had to have nearly every piece of albedo peeled away from the juice sacs. I liked oranges, but they weren't my favorite.

For some reason this year, though, I decided it was time I peeled my own orange. I don't quite know why I had decided this, or more importantly, why I hadn't peeled an orange up to age 25. Whatever the reason, I decided to do it. I knew my parents usually bought navel oranges, so I started with a bag of those. I put them in the refrigerator because I like my fruit cold, and when they seemed like they'd be cold enough, I took one orange out, and began peeling.

I bit the rind, just as my dad had always done. I didn't know how bitter and gross that tastes. (I've since begun using a knife.) Then I slowly peeled the whole orange. It hurt my thumb, and I had orange zest under my nails. But it was fun. I had fun peeling an orange. And it tasted better than any orange I've ever had in my life.

Now for my epiphany: I love peeling oranges. I feel like I get some kind of frustration out as I silently work for my food. Working for it makes it more worth it, too, I think. It's the same kind of feeling I get when I eat pistachios. Having to work for my food a bit makes me appreciate it more. I've discovered that navel oranges are most likely my favorite fruit. I'm glad I finally found out!


Thing I'm thankful for: patience.