PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Casting his cane aside, my grandfather stepped into the scorching soil of his ranch in Las Anacuas, Nuevo Leon. Every time the family came together here in his childhood home he would forget all his ailments and partake in the celebrations. Barbecue, charro beans, suckling pig and for dessert: Blood Oranges, his pride and joy. Blood oranges are very particular and require meticulous care; if the temperature is not perfect, or if the pH of the soil is off then the oranges become very bitter and not fit for consumption. With proper care, blood oranges become a delicacy that you cannot find in any big name supermarket. My father remembers when his father first bought the orange saplings, one by one, and all my uncles helped in the planting process. They always remember fondly the first time that, after much trial and error, the trees first gave good oranges. Everyone in the neighborhood knows that my grandfather brought blood oranges from the ranch, and it became a social event since everyone knows everyone in that neighborhood. Many acquaintances and distant cousins would come to my grandfather’s house to get oranges, and they were always free for anyone who cared to stop by for a chat. The first time I ever went to the ranch I remember being in awe. There were so many orange trees and I could not even begin to imagine how someone could take care of that many oranges, but I do have 10 uncles and 2 aunts. When my grandfather’s health began to decline, the visits to the ranch would get less and less frequent. The oranges from the ranch stopped coming, since many bandits and thieves broke into the ranch and stole everything from the small house, and the few blood oranges remaining were the ones that came from my grandparents’ lone orange tree in their backyard. Eventually, my grandfather was stuck in a wheelchair, and we all thought that he would never go to his childhood home again. It was agreed between my uncles and aunts that we should all take him one last time, to remember the good times. We all went to the ranch and celebrated, and all my family decided to restore the ranch back to its old glory, to bring the oranges back and to continue with the tradition of getting together. My grandfather passed away before the renovations were done, but every time I eat an orange, be it a blood one or a regular one, I remember my grandfather.