The Browning Banana Effect

Monday, July 27 2009

Two lonely bananas looked lost in the Bennet fruit bowl, which a few hours ago, had been brimming with ripe apples. One sitting at the dining table meant the bananas were now bereft of their crunchier pals. Five hungry mouths had chomped their way to the cores, now left for Mrs Bennet to clear away.
“That will be me and Mrs Bennet in a few years time,” thought Mrs Bennet as she took the banana-only fruit bowl into the kitchen to refill, this time with tiny oranges, the “easy peeler” kind.
The bananas didn’t look as fresh as they did on Friday. Their brown freckled patches were now more noticeable against the yellow skin. They didn’t seem so appealing and Mrs Bennet knew they’d end up as banana cake if not consumed within the next 24 hours.
“Where does time go?” she thought sadly. She didn’t want to be 40. It sounded so old. Well it had sounded really old when she was about 15. And it didn’t seem five minutes since she was at secondary school, mulling over which A level subjects to take.
Last night she had been looking at baby photos with Miss Naomi Bennet and laughing at the funny comments she had included in her first year book. None of the other Miss Bennets had such a book. Mrs Bennet had had time on her hands when Miss Naomi had arrived. Miss Emily had half a book, but Miss Megan, Miss Rosie and Miss Kezia didn’t stand a chance of getting a completed diary. Mrs Bennet felt guilty about it. She was so busy looking after them, feeling like the ball in a pin-ball machine, pinging from task to task, child to child, she often failed to take a photo of the occasion let alone get the opportunity to develop them or put them in an album. One day maybe? What hit her was how young she had looked. It certainly wasn’t the face she had seen in the mirror this morning. Like the banana, it had brown marks on it, slightly wrinkled and a little jaded. Her teeth were no longer as white – in fact one was missing – and she looked, well older. It hadn’t helped that most of the past ten years had been deprived of sleep or that her body had produced five children, was constantly on the go and no longer knew was rest meant. In fact if she was honest she really felt like a discarded banana peel. Since the little Miss Twin Bennets’ arrival, she’d spent countless hours in “tighten your asset” classes trying to get her “peel” to stick back together. If you looked closely you’d see it didn’t quite match. But thankfully only Mr Bennet got that close.
Right now Mrs Bennet didn’t want time to move. She wanted to freeze moments – the infectious giggle of Miss Kezia Bennet who ran away at the mention of “nappy change”; the innocent writing and simple loveable drawings Miss Megan Bennet constantly produced; the Tigger-like bounce in Miss Emily Bennet’s step, the wonderful smattering of freckles dusting Miss Naomi Bennet’s nose and the way Miss Rosie Bennet sucked her fingers and cuddled her bunny when she was tired. Mr Bennet who frequently delighted in reminding her that he was younger than herself, seemed to have worn better. Granted, he had less hair and perhaps more padding, but his smile was still as bright and he certainly didn’t have any stretch marks. He didn’t look so tired either.
Mrs Bennet hoped the next decade would bring more sleep, but somehow she knew more grey hairs, wrinkles and age spots would arrive. Like the uneaten banana, left in the fruit bowl after the younger crispier fruit had long gone, she hoped she would still be useful. But then there was always the chance she and Mr Bennet would make a good banana cake in their ripening years.