When I was too small to have an apple
on my own, my mother would tell me
to find someone willing to share an apple
with me. I would ask my oldest brother
and my older brother. I would ask my
little brother or little sister. If they told
me no, I would ask my big sister. She
often said no. Then I would ask my
eldest sister, who at the time was my
biggest sister (now my little sister is my
biggest sister). She would look at me for
a moment, take the apple from my hand
and cut it in two with a butter knife. She
would give me the bigger half, coring
the seeds for me. She would look at me
again, take a bite of her smaller half
of the apple and send me away with
my larger half, which was already starting
to brown. I would go and sit with my older
brother and little brother and sister. Apple
juice would run down my chin. My little
brother would say, “Mummy, can I have a
apple?”
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