Curious.
The “First Year Experience” class is something fun and optional that incoming students have to apply for, so there’s already a certain level of interest suggested on their part (always a good sign).
In less thirty minutes I’ll be meeting twenty fresh faces. I am so, so excited — and nervous at the same time. What are the new students like? And how can I be a good T.A. for them?
Auden asked me what the blueberries were like in California.
“What color are they inside?”
I had never given it much thought — the giant experimental ones I ate in Oregon were slightly green, and the ones back home on the kitchen table are also kind of green. Their flesh is pale and almost see-through. Not at all blue.
He tells me about the blueberries in his Oma’s farm, how their flesh is more red than green or white, and how they’re so red that no amount of wiping with your shirt would hide the evidence. Those are the best, he says.
I believe him. He told me a few other things that he missed from his homeland of Norway, but it’s his love for blueberries that I remember the most.