The Return

I could see the masts of the sailboats in Old Port Cannes sticking out of the Mediterranean like pegs in a cribbage board. It had been an overnight voyage from Spain to France. The new crew, who had not been there before, were excited to explore a new town. I was excited too, not for something new, but for something that had been simmering in my mind for months. White peach season.


Before the deckhands had even finished tying the lines, I had jumped to shore, cloth bags in hand, and started heading to my favorite part of Cannes; Marche Forville. Heavy heat weighed me down as I crossed the dry, dusty Petanque courts. A loud cheer erupted from a group of men dressed in polyester pants and long-sleeves rolled to the elbow. Their steel ball had knocked their friends, now enemies, ball out of range. It was just like I remembered it.

A feast of summer colors assaulted me as I entered the market. The vibrant greens of mache lettuce were piled beside the shine of an aubegine's deep purple skin. Primal red tomatoes still glistened with spray from a mister.

"Coucou." The egg-man broke into a grin when he saw me approach. My heart warmed. He remembered me!



"Victoria!" The Tunisian woman behind the next counter exclaimed. "Ca va?"

This is who I had come to see. Every day last summer, she had filled my basket with a dozen, fist-sized white peaches from her garden. Each day, I had devoured more than my share. I would stand over the galley sink, juice dribbling down my chin, as I gobbled up the subtle flesh, sweetness swirling through my mouth. I would finish one and reach for another. By the end of the day, they had all disappeared. The next day the cycle would repeat.

I am someone who loves the change of seasons, but I was more than a little sad to see the summer end. We sailed away and found new cuisines to explore, but now, here I was, back for more peaches.




"Hola." I stammered. "I mean, Bonjour." Switching countries is a confusing way to shop. She giggled and picked up a peach. She too, remembered.

I smiled, knowing what lay ahead. By the time I had walked home to the boat, I had inhaled the first of many of this season's white peaches. I was glad to be back in France once more.