ADAM'S POINT OF VIEW
I walked out of the coffee shop smiling like a total goofball. I really enjoyed talking to Victoria. I've dated quite a few women since high school and I typically go for the pretty ones. Some of them were smart, some were artistic, etc., but I barely paid any attention to them. I just needed to have someone beside me for parties and social events because that's what everyone did. It was convenient to date and it was like following a norm. Due to my inattentiveness, it does not take long for them to realize what an asshole I am and they break up with me. I would have to agree though, I was an asshole and those women deserved so much better.
This time, I don't think Victoria is more profound or more interesting than the women I've dated. But for some reason, I am more interested in her. I actually find myself listening to what she says instead of spacing out a few minutes into the conversation. I am suddenly less of an asshole. Maybe I am making better choices these days. I actually find myself looking forward to seeing her again, not just because she's pretty but because I want to get to know her more.
After walking to the main road, I pause to hail a cab to take me to the south side of town where the strawberry farm is. It took the cab around 20 minutes to reach the Strawberry farm. I get off the cab and inspect the main gate. The farm still has the same sign post since my last visit 10 years ago. The words are barely readable as most of the letters have faded with time but I know from memory that it says: Sanchez Strawberry Farm.
I remember coming here often as a young boy. My mother would take me with her whenever she had to work and I had no school. My uncle would also be here and he would take me to the fields and ask me to help with the harvest. The strawberries that were harvested used to be sold fresh to all the nearby markets and groceries. Eventually, my mom and her brother, Uncle Louis came up with the brilliant idea of turning the strawberries into jam. This way, the farm would have products to sell even in the off season. Over time they also began to grow several variants of strawberries to include those that bore fruit almost all year round. A portion of the farm was also converted into a grapes farm in the hope of producing some wine and grape juice as well. My mother and her brother inherited this land from their parents and cherished it with so much love and dedication. Unfortunately, my mother suddenly died from a car accident and everything changed.
Not long after my mother died, my father decided that we would move to another municipality. He was not interested in the farm and wanted to sell my mother's shares. My uncle tried to pay off the shares so he could become the sole owner of the farm. Eventually my uncle insisted that 10 percent of the farm would be under my name so that when I am grown up I could also have a piece of my mother's beloved business. My father did not agree at first as he wanted to get the full price for my mother's shares and reasoned out that he needs the money to fund a comfortable fresh start for us in the city. I was eleven years old back then and I wanted to keep something of my mother's. I begged my father to keep the 10 percent under my name and he eventually agreed.
Unfortunately, the farm has not been doing so well these past few years. My Uncle said that he is on the verge of selling the farm to a developer who wants to turn it into a shopping center. I decided to move here and see if I can help in any way. Plus, with all the trouble I got myself into the last few months I need a new start.
I walk up to the gate and try to see if there's anyone inside I could talk to. Visiting on a Sunday might not be a good idea, there's probably no one inside. I tried to walk around the fence and see if I could get a better look inside. As I walked, someone called out to me. "Excuse me, son. Is there anything I can do for you?"
I turn around and see a man with gray hair and a full beard. It takes me a while to recognize him but it's Uncle Louis. He aged significantly over the years. It seems the stress of running this farm has taken its toll on him. I approached him. "Uncle Louis, it's me Adam, your nephew."
It took him a second to absorb what I just said. Next thing I know he was hugging me. "Adam, what are you doing here? I can barely recognize you. You're a full grown man!" I smiled at him. "Well it's been 10 years, uncle. It'd be pretty weird if I still looked like a little boy at 23 now would it?"
We spent the morning going around the farm. Uncle Louis tried to seem calm while explaining the financial issues that the farm is going through but the stress is very apparent on his face. I wanted to reassure him and tell him that I would do anything to help him get this place back on track. However, I feel that it would be unrealistic to make any promises right now. I've been here for one day and we are barely scratching the surface when it comes to this farm's issues. It was around noon when we finished and Uncle Louis was kind enough to invite me back to his home for lunch.
We spent the afternoon going through the farm's financial records and other files on production. The farm relied on keeping paper documents which made the entire process a bit more difficult. Some of the documents had been eaten by termites and were beyond recognition. It was past 5 pm when we called it a day and I made my way back to my apartment.
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