“Popcorn”

Grandma said to pick the plump ones near the bottom of the stalk, and not to pull too hard. “If you have to pull,” she said, “they’re not ready for eating and you’ll break a tooth for sure.”

“That’s not real popcorn,” Aiden argued, certain that she was funning him. Everyone knew that popcorn came from a bag in the microwave.

“It is, too,” Grandma insisted. “It’s the real deal, nothing at all like that farmed junk they sell at the movies or the grocery store. Go on, go and try one. You’ll never crave crap popcorn again.”

He laughed at his grandmother saying “crap”, but that’s how Grandma was. He wondered sometimes how Mom had turned out so proper with a mother like that, though he had way more fun at Grandma’s place that he had at home. Grandma’s place was magical.

So he ventured into the tall grass growing on the cliff and sighted a bunch of stalks covered with mostly fat yellow morsels. The ones at the top were small and kind of green, and so hard when he pinched one that it made a dent in his fingertips. The ones in between were fluffier, but probably had toenails that would stick in his teeth and make his gums bleed. Grandma called out when he eyeballed the lower third of the stalk:

“Bring a handful, Aiden, and we’ll have a snack.”

It looked like popcorn, all right. The biggest blossoms practically fell into his hand when he touched them, just like Grandma said. And if she was willing to eat it with him, then she couldn’t be funning him like he thought she was.

He made an apron from his t-shirt and filled it up with fluffy yellow flowers, then tromped back to where she sat waiting for him on a big rock. “I dunno, Grandma,” he said dubiously, giving her one last chance to hoot and come clean.

She plucked a beauty from the pile in his makeshift bowl. Aiden watched her toss it into her mouth, chew it, and swallow. “Yum,” she said. She reached for another one, not bothering to invite him to try one himself.

That made up his mind. He chose a big one that looked buttery (but how could it be when there was no butter around?) and put it carefully on his tongue.

It was the best popcorn he’d ever eaten. Drenched in hot butter sun and salted from the sea air, every single piece was perfection. Aiden crammed it by the handful into his mouth and went back for two t-shirts more. “Don’t tell anyone,” Grandma cautioned afterward, walking home with his hand in hers. “If word gets out, they’ll come and harvest every stalk ’til the cliffs are bare and only twigs remain.”

“Can’t they grow it as good on a farm, Grandma?”

“Farms are where the crap they sell at the movies and the grocery store comes from, son. Some things are best left where they belong. Nature knows the right conditions to get the best results. You remember that when you grow up, and you’ll do fine.”

Aiden did remember. When he grew up and had a son of his own, he took the boy to the oceanside cliffs and pointed out the cheerful sunny stalks waving gently in the breeze. “See the yellow flowers, Ty? That’s wild popcorn. You pick ’em from the bottom, but don’t pull too hard. If you have to pull, they’re not ready for eating and you’ll break a tooth for sure.”