I am a lychee fiend. I grew up in tropical North Queensland, where farmers would sell bulging bags of the fruit on the side of the road. For the six weeks or so a year that lychees are in season, I can almost feel callouses forming on my fingers from the amount of lychee skins I peel. I’m often rapped over the knuckles by my Dad for being so greedy. But there is no better feeling that sitting in the hot sun, with a huge bowl between your knees, juice dripping all over your chin and hands, and that burst of sweetness on your tongue when you first pierce the skin of the fruit.
Can you remember the last time someone bought you flowers and how it made you feel? I bet a lot of women can remember the first time they ever received them. For me, there is nothing that says love, appreciation, congratulations, romance, condolences or thoughtfulness like flowers.
I think of myself as blessed to have so many great friends. I don’t have a huge group who all hang out together. Instead, I’ve been fortunate enough to pick up some priceless gems here and there along the journey of life.