My co-worker gave me a persimmon today. His parents grew them in their backyard, and when they visited they gave him a few. I haven't had a persimmon since I was 8. I was on a field trip to a persimmon farm, and we raided the sappy trees, the spicy smell filling the air. I took home 3 trashbags filled to the brim, and my family and I ate them everyday for more than a month. Half a bag later, the fruits had become gooey overripe globs leaking nauseating sweetness everywhere, and no one wanted to have anything to do with a persimmon ever again. I've forgotton what they taste like, and somehow the orange fruit only evokes the memories of thrilled plucking from heavy branches, the eager dragging of the overflowing bags from tree to tree, not so much the torturous weeks of eating them.