Ode to the Lime
Citrus Aurantifolia to be exact
Whose pungent aroma fills the air when plucked from the tree.
Whose yellow skin is natural, unlike the forest-green globes one sees at the grocery store. 
They wait, offering a treasure.
My own little eden, in the middle of a sprawling city.
I have tried not to love you, tried not to sniff the fragrant white blooms and coo at the sight of baby limes appearing in the middle of fall.
I am entranced. I am in love with you.
For the memories you trigger. That of visiting St Simons Island, meeting new friends.
Remembrances of sand and sun, summer breezes and serenity. Oh how I miss the golden community, especially now as the grey of winter approaches.
I smile at the memory. We carefully placed you in the car where you would ride beside my teenager for many hours, eventually arriving in your new home in Atlanta.
My golden remembrances have carried me through the summer and will linger when winter nips at the tips of the “outside trees.” You will be nestled safely inside in your new home. We want you to be happy here and create your own memories, with us.

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