Note: This was a monologue I wrote, based on an almost completely true story, that was performed recently by immensely talented actor Carter Coon at Forte Studios in Mt. Horeb, Wisconsin. It is a tragically beautiful tale of a love that was never meant to be. Between me and an apple.
Have you ever loved an apple? I mean really loved an apple? Doesn’t even matter the variety because there are a lot. This is about loving an apple. A single solitary apple that had fallen into your hand, perhaps from divine intervention. Or perhaps . . . from a tree, an apple tree no less, because you two were meant to be together. Sounds beautiful, doesn’t it? It shouldn’t. Because it’s a fairy tale. A fairy tale without a happily ever after. You know how I know? Because I lived it just a few short months ago when an apple fell into my hands. A Gravenstein apple, my favorite. It brought back memories of my best childhood memory. Of eating a Gravenstein apple at an abandoned park when I was but a wee child. And now, even though it was winter and there shouldn’t be any apples in trees, I was holding one. It had to be a sign. A sign that I was to recreate that cherished childhood memory. I wrapped my apple in fresh linen and got into my car and drove to that park, the same abandoned park of that treasured memory so many years ago.
The roads were snow, mud, and road salt covered. I parked my car on top of the hill, grabbed my apple, and headed down the hill to the park. Everything was going well as I walked, with a giddiness in my step. And perhaps it was that giddiness that made me slip a little on the ice. In my haste not to fall, I loosened the grip on my fresh linen sack containing my apple and it fell from my hands. The apple hit the ground and start rolling down the hill. I screamed out “No, apple! Stop rolling!” But it didn’t listen. Because apples don’t have the ability to hear. I watched it roll under a car. I thought all was lost then but it wasn’t. It cleared that car and continued rolling down the hill, bouncing up and down along the way. I thought of running after it but I didn’t want to be seen chasing an apple. Again. So, I walked casually, though there was nothing casual about the way I felt on the inside. I watched and walked as the apple rolled and rolled and rolled down the road, through the ice, salt, mud, and perhaps a small carcass of some animal, until it finally stopped right at the spot where I had that great apple eating experience as a wee child. I was elated. Fate had decided that nothing would stop me. I merrily skipped to the spot, reached down and picked up the apple and smiled. I thought of washing the apple off but I couldn’t. Because there was nothing to wash it off with. I gently rubbed it off on my pants with a smile so wide that it almost wrapped around my entire head.
I sat down on the bench. It was cold. A side effect of being snow and ice covered. But it didn’t matter. Because my heart was warm. I looked the apple with a love that I hadn’t known for so many years and took a huge bite. One that if an old lady walked by she would “My laddie, what a huge bite.” I expected my mouth to be filled with the goodness of that Gravenstein but it wasn’t. Instead, it was filled with the taste of old apple, salt, mud, a little carcass perhaps, and other things that I couldn’t quite identify. I tried to chew through, hoping that the next bite would rectify everything. It didn’t because I bit into two giant pebbles. That’s when I knew it was over. I screamed out and threw the apple deep into the woods. I collapsed onto the ground, my tears forming a torrent stream that tried to carry my sadness away but my sadness was a boat that was too broken to sail.
My mother found me the next morning, curled up in a fetal position, almost in the shape of a twice bitten dream crushing Gravenstein. She offered me a ham sandwich. There were three slices of ham, two slices of cheddar cheese, a little mustard on a delightfully toasted sourdough bread. It was good. It really was.
My mom then picked me, threw me over her shoulder, and carried me home. She’s a really strong woman.
Here it is. Steven's blog, where his thoughts about things are revealed. Good luck.