I always hated the skin of apples.

Yes, I know. The vitamins, the nutrients.

But I didn’t care. I hated the skin of apples.

I hated the taste. I hated the texture. I only wanted the juicy, sweet insides.

But I had to get through the outside to get to the inside of the apple. My favorite part.

I couldn’t use knives yet. Or scissors. Or any sharp objects. Because I was little. Harmless. Helpless. Hopeless when it came to ridding the skin of my apples.

And one day, you noticed I stopped eating the apples altogether.

You warned me of the vitamins. The nutrients. Or the lack thereof.

But I didn’t care. I hated the skin of apples. So I stopped eating them altogether.

See, apples didn’t affect me as much as they affected you. I didn’t get that.

I lived my life as if there were no longer any apples.

But you were worried. You were worried because I stopped eating my apples.

You were worried about the vitamins. The nutrients. The lack thereof.

I didn’t think twice.

I came home from school one day and walked right past the apples and your face dropped when I reached for the cookies.

Boy did I love those cookies. They were double chocolate chip cookies. Super sweet.

You let me have the cookies. You wanted me to have the cookies. Because god did I love those cookies so much.

And you loved me so much.

The next day when I came home from school, there they were. The apples.

I didn’t even take in a hint of those sweet, sweet double chocolate chip cookies that I loved so much.

Because there they were.

The apples.

Skinless, naked apples on the kitchen counter.

And then a smile.

Apples never really affected me like they affected you.

But that day when I came home.

That affected me.

Suddenly, apples were my favorite fruit again. And you had shown me my favorite kind of love.