Actually, not that sweet, at first. Just like going to Grandma’s, going to Uncle’s you never leave empty handed. “Go make lemonade,” he said, washing bunches of lemon and putting them in a plastic bag for us to take home. So I did. Under the direction of my oldest boss, G-Flo, I made lemonade. Five lemons later, I had more than enough juice for a pitcher of lemonade. G-Flo commented, “I think that’s a lot of juice for that small pitcher. Needs plenty water you know.” Eye roll. She’s the boss for a reason and always thinks her way is the right way. The first taste was sour, like really sour. A spoonful of sugar later it was still sour. Another spoonful didn’t make much of a difference. “How does it taste? Still sour yeah?” She asked, and I lied. “It’s perfect!” The truth was, it probably needed more water but no way was I going to admit that to G-Flo. I just poured myself a glass, drinking my sour juice which was perfect for my slightly sour attitude.
Bringing home these lemons from Uncle’s house was a treat and making lemonade with G-Flo–priceless. My new location comes with a lot of commentary and critique but I can’t complain. I came home for this and even after days of sour lemonade, it’s always pretty sweet.