a casualty

A giant in shark sandals squashed my strawberry this morning. Only the well-meaning look on his sweet face and the fact that my blood runs through his veins saved him from exile from the kingdom. No, it was an accident. He is two years old. Sometimes, when he is trying to help me, he mistakes the green pepper plants for weeds and yanks at their leaves. I won't lie, though, and say that I didn't experience feelings of disappointment and frustration as I tossed the pulverized berry out to the grass for some lucky bird. It was not my finest hour. Perhaps some Moroccan floor pillows and sunset meditation are in order?