Sharing Pomegranate Seeds in the Quiet Kitchen

Dear Delyara, We spent two hours tonight sitting at the kitchen table with a single, massive pomegranate I’ve been saving from the market down the road. We didn't turn on the television, we didn't check our phones, and we didn't discuss our mortgage applications or our career targets. We just sat there together, splitting the tough pink skin with our fingers, digging out the deep red seeds, and talking about the summers we spent by the sea when we were kids. The cold, analytical distance that usually grows between two people after a long week of mechanical work completely dissolved over a bowl of fruit.