Ode to Yellow Watermelon

Memories are fickle things. Two people recalling the same event can weave drastically different images since each person focuses on different details. My siblings and I grew up experiencing the world in the same way. If one were to ask either of them what summertime brings to mind, their answers would likely not be the same as mine.

We took the same family vacations, riding in the backseat of the family car (without seat belts) and listening to the same music our parents chose to play on the radio. We swam in the same lakes and rivers. We even played outside with the same group of neighbor kids until the streetlights came on. Then, the three of us would race home where we knew our friend's parents would be sitting in lawn chairs visiting with our parents, enjoying homemade ice cream or some other sweet treat mom just whipped up earlier that day.

These memories fill me, running barefoot through my mind as carefree as a child after the last day of school. Thoughts of eating orangesicle ice cream bars in my neighbor's garage, hot dogs grilling in the front yard for a neighborhood picnic, the deep color of sun tea warm from the afternoon sun, quickly melting the ice as it’s poured into a glass. These moments are treasures to me. Times that helped mold the person I am today. Yet none of these genuinely capture the feeling of the perfect start of summertime.

That honor belongs to the humble watermelon. Not just any watermelon, but the sweet, yellow meat variety. Some may say this is a myth, especially those who have never ventured very far south. But, once you have tasted this succulent fruit, you’ll likely not forget it. Having the same texture inside and identical rind coloring the main difference between the two varieties, besides the color of the meat, is a subtle sweetness in the yellow that many red varieties lack. As with the red, I do recommend you lightly salt your melon before eating to bring out all the juicy flavors.

I have always had a love-hate relationship with this delicious fruit. Holding a chilled wedge as big as my face, with the chubby fingers I had as a child brought pure joy. Taking that first refreshing bite, the watermelon juice hit my cheeks and ran down my chin, finally landing on my t-shirt forming an ever-growing wet spot I wouldn't notice until later. My heart was happy. This was love.

Not even a minute after this euphoric feeling, a strange sensation began. The inside of my ears starts to itch. Not just a light itch you scratch unconsciously then the feeling goes away. How does one scratch the inside of the ear? This was an, I think a bee has stung my car drum and the itch is driving me crazy, kind of feeling.

The ear doesn't bother me long, however, because soon after my tongue becomes too large for my mouth, and the lovely flavor of the watermelon juices which coated my throat with their sweetness has now been replaced by the need to claw at my neck as I try to reach past my uvula to remove whatever is causing my breath to become labored. Then it hits my chest and a full-blown asthma attack is triggered by an extreme allergy to my favorite taste in the world, watermelon. This is the hate.

Still, knowing the repercussions, I never gave up on this summertime treat. I entered and won many watermelon eating contests, my cheeks breaking out in hives before the last bite was swallowed. Many of you may not understand my desire to continue eating this treat knowing the misery that would follow. Some may even question the safety of literally feeding this craving. There is simply nothing that tastes so good to me, so I have made concessions. For years I would take allergy medicine before and after enjoying a slice. (Let's be honest, four or five slices at the very least.)

Then one glorious day my world changed.

During one of those family road trips, we stopped at a roadside fruit stand, which was often our custom, where they sold a watermelon that was not red or pink, but a bright yellow as golden as the sun. I HAD to try this! My parents, who were as curious as I, bought a whole watermelon. It was sliced and passed around with our lunch. Concerned, because we didn't have any allergy medicine handy, my mom had skipped my plate.

Crestfallen, I did the only logical thing I could. I begged. When that didn't work, I begged some more. Eventually, I wore my mother down. I think she may have said something to the effect of, "If you eat this and die don't blame me." She wasn't really worried. My dad was already on his way to a corner store to pick some medicine up.

Strangely, my ears never began to itch. My tongue remained the same size. There was no desire to claw at my throat. No asthma attack manifested. To this day I have never had any ill effects from consuming the yellow variety of watermelon.

Today, summer doesn't officially start for me until the supermarket and local fruit stands start stocking my favorite flavor of all time. I eat a very large bowl of watermelon chunks every single day. I even asked my doctor if eating so much would cause a problem. Luckily, it won’t. To be clear, I wouldn't have stopped eating it, nor would I eat any less. I just wanted to be forewarned.