I ate a grape for the first time today. It tasted very good.

There are certain habits that I have developed and stuck to since I was a small child. One of these eccentricies of mine is that I don't "like" fruit and don't eat it. Sure I eat apples and the occasional piece of melon when the mood strikes me, but put a berry or a peach or a mango in front of me and I clamp my jaw shut. My biggest issue with fruit is the texture, or so I rationalize. I also have a phobia of taking a bite of a rotten or bruised piece of fruit.

Today, as I slid down on the long tannish-orange couch in the lounge next to my friend, senior Marika Iyer, and began to search through the contents of her lunch, I came across a bag of grapes. I gave an exclaimation of disgust and remarked that grapes are not a part of my personal food pyramid. Marika took a grape out of the bag and held it in front of me. "Eat it," she said.

I took the grape from her and held it between my thumb and forefinger. It was purply-red and green and semitransparent in the light. "What does it taste like?" I asked. "Good," she replied, "just eat it." I put the grape into my mouth. Before I took a bite, I wondered to myself what it would taste like. Would it be sqishy and sour? Did it have juice inside that would explode once I broke the skin? Would I like it? There was only one way to find out. I bit down.

I can now attest to the statement that grapes do indeed taste good. They are a sweet and sour, juicy explosion, and I intend to eat more of them.

I am proud that I broke one of my childish habits, yet, I am a little ashamed that it took me so long to realize the absurdity of it.

Though my grape experience was a trivial one, it has inspired me to re-evaluate some of my inflexible and stubborn tendencies. Cheers to the common grape and all of its wonderment!