There's An Avocado In My Shoe

Sunday morning  I was about to dash out the door to Church when I grabbed my dress shoes from the back of the closet and there was an avocado in my shoe. What a relief, I thought, now I have the proof that I love my husband.  If this isn't the reaction you would expect upon finding an avocado in your shoe, here's the backstory.

When I was growing up my Dad would frequently give my Mother an avocado for Christmas.  We never ate avocados in our family.  My Dad said they were disgusting and made him throw up.  He had eaten his first and last avocado when he was in the Navy. Either my Mom had served one when he was on leave or it was during his military travels, I don't remember exactly (perhaps my sister, who sometimes reads my blog, can fact check this memory for me. My memories are notoriously colored by the filters of childhood or otherwise incorrect.)  The end result was that he threw up and never ate an avocado again. As a side note, his culinary review was all the evidence I needed and so I never ate an avocado until I was an 18 year old adventurous college student.  When I think of all the deliciousness I missed out on....

Even though my Dad held to his views of the disgusting avocado he knew that my Mom really liked them.  He was an open minded man and was willing to tolerate this weakness in my Mom's character, so he often gave her an avocado for Christmas. Actually, he just really, really liked my Mom.  I was one of those lucky kids who never doubted that her parents loved each other. It never occurred to me to doubt. They were not showy about their affection and my Dad was not an obvious romantic. When he brought my Mom flowers, they were freshly picked from the front yard. However, there were smiles and laughter and exchanged glances. They must have had problems from time to time, but I never saw it. That is not an over sentimentalized view of my childhood. I never once heard my Dad yell at, or belittle my Mom. Never once. He adored her.

As for the avocado, my Dad always tired to pick the very best avocado for my Mom. That meant he picked the one that was the brightest green and hard as a rock!  When I was a teenager (still not eating avocados) Mom quietly told me that was not the way to choose the best avocado but that she would never dream of hurting his feelings when he was trying so hard to please her.  She simply left the avocado on the counter until is was gross, brown and wrinkled and at the height of it's wonderfulness.

Early in my marriage, during that time when couples are trying to explain their past to each other, I told this story to Dave. I told him that to me, the avocado was like a secret "I love you" that was so much better than candy or gifts.  That first Christmas I found an avocado in my Christmas stocking. Unlike my Dad, my husband is a romantic. And so it began. Every Christmas he put an avocado in my stocking and I put one in his.

This year I bought an avocado about a week before Christmas. On Christmas Eve as I was putting the stockings together, I couldn't find the avocado anywhere. I looked in all the hiding places, nothing! I thought for sure I had put it in the breadbox. The clothes basket in my closet where the other Christmas presents were stashed, was empty.

Christmas morning there was an avocado in my stocking but not in Dave's. I told everyone that I had one someplace, and professed my love to Dave. Still, I had the impression that they (Dave and my daughters) were not entirely buying it. They suspected I was just making up this whole lost avocado story to cover my gross negligence. This was further  proof that Dave is the more romantic one in our marriage. (While that may be true, that was not the point. The point was that I really did buy that darn avocado!)

You can only imagine my relief on Sunday morning when I found an avocado in my shoe!