The Dragonfruit Philosophy

Growing up, dragonfruit was always a good sign. It was that special treat that my mother used to garnish the end of a successful fiscal year. If there was healthy foot traffic to the family business and we managed to break even, she would stop by the exotic fruit stand and parade through town to share with extended family. The deliveries were an opportunity to partake in harmless gossip, remind everyone's kids to drink milk, and to discreetly assess the health of any aunties that ignored medical advice.

When the family business ultimately failed and we had to close up shop, the dragonfruit deliveries decreased in size and frequency. Though, my mother was never bitter or regretful. The timing wasn't quite right and hard work wasn't enough, but she remained positive about the American Dream.

At the time, I thought that her ability to quietly move on was too mild-mannered. So I carried enough disappointment for both of us and fiercely opposed the Dream trap. I didn't care for passion or legacy; I was set on a career that would value precision and offer job security as its reward. But after years of burnout, I realized that my approach was lacking the abundance of my mother's disposition.

Whereas she could spend her time peering out the bay window and appreciating the flowers, I was too busy wiping away pollen.

There was a lot that my mom got right. Like reminding everyone to take breaks. Or to quit a job when most commutes to and from are spent in tears.

Sure, my mother's dragonfruit celebrations were impulsive and premature. But now that I am a tad older, they serve as a reminder that you shouldn't have to wait for conventional success to celebrate. (That success may never come.) So instead of constantly delaying our joy, there is something to be said for checking up on our loved ones and giving them a physical reminder to eat.