By Tomato Queen
It seems entirely disproportionate, but as I’m on the eve of moving, I’m mourning the green tomatoes that I won’t see blush and ripen in the garden.
I mean, really. Let’s think about this.
I’m moving on the tail of a long break-up from a long, 12-year relationship. I’m saying goodbye to the cats.
I’ve lived in this house and made a home of it for seven years, and in it is an amazing greenhouse, with fruit trees! All of this is overwhelming and sad and promising.
And so, as I mourn the relationship and the excruciating goodbyes, and the splitting up those things we enjoyed together, and all the intimacies that come with sharing a household with someone for seven years; and feel that the cats all look at me accusingly for abandoning them every time I pet them (yes, they know); as I pack and haul countless boxes, and as every visit to one of my favorite places here in Ann Arbor will be my last (for some time, if not forever) before I start fresh in Portland, OR–it’s with a heavy heart that I pass those green tomatoes every day. It’s just morbid. I don’t want to let them go.