The apple is nice, but in this world of spice is sliced caramelized in butter and brown sugar, dusted with nutmeg and cinnamon, and baked till golden atop dough of kolache. So does the mouth water for the knowledge of oven warm forbidden apple kolache, beside tall cool glass of sweet cream milk. So swam waking, lip smacking dream; so was the life stream of one Juan John Paulo, beloved son of Manuel Janacek Paulo and Ana Chen Paulo.
"Wake now, my little Juan John a-litto," Ana yanked the covers away. "School day," Ana sang, "Juan John a-litto, he is one Juan John a-litto... Juan John a-littooooo... Juan John a-littooo..."
Juan John moaned, grabbed too late at soft covers gone. "Mom! I am eighteen years old! Stop treating me like a kid! You are going to drive the other two-thirds of me into being Chinese!"
Oh, my poor Juan John Janacek Chen Paulo... how did you know?" The eyes of Ana flashed.
The aroma of sauteed cabbage assaulted the nostrils of Juan John, "Noooo! Not egg rolls for breakfast again!"
On the way to school Juan John mulled cultural diversification, "Who am I? My DNA got tossed into a blender and pureed."
At Learning Tree High School, observing the multitude of other teens in the hallway, Juan John avoided not the next thought perplexing, "Where have all the white people gone? For that matter where are the black people? Brown or yellow people, where are they? Who is anybody anymore?"
Finger through belt loop tugged Juan John round, eye to eye with amber eyed girlfriend. "Juan John," Missy began, "troubled brow betrays that the subject of our little talk last night, your cultural meltdown, continues."
"Egg rolls!" Juan John complained.
"What?" Missy drew a perplexed look of her own.
"Egg rolls for breakfast again, and I don't mean the homemade kind either. Frozen! Nuked! Egg rolls! For breakfast!" Juan John spat.
"First of all..." Missy started...
"Yeah, I know how many folks round the world would just be grateful for something warm to eat." Juan John rolled eyes.
"You did't?" You did! You rolled your eyes at me!" Missy feigned anger, giggled, took his chin in the palm of her hand, returned his eyes to hers. "Rolled those beautiful eyes at me, one sapphire blue, one ruby green, so beautiful. That's it! Your eyes, people still tease you about your eyes??"
"Not so much tease or make fun of, but stare. They try not to look, but end up starring, like I'm some kind a mutated freak. Blue, green, brown, aqua maroon, who cares, as long as both eyes are the same color. I just want to be like everybody else. Or no I don't, cause everybody else is a mutt too. Am I confused or what?" Juan John wondered, repeated, "Or what?"
"Or," Missy caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Or," she pulled his ear to her lips. "Or," she whispered, "they might just admire you, and your beautiful eyes, like I do..." Missy reflected, hinted soft threat, "Although, they better not."
Missy paused, made the most of Juan John's undivided attention. "My precious Juan John Paulo, even with beautiful eyes of different colors through which to see, how do you not see how blessed you are? You get to celebrate throughout the year many cultures, that our Heavenly Father has blessed you with. Just thank Him in Jesus name."
No matter the color of the eyes... how seen what is seen... is key to color...
See in love one another... See in love our Creator above... Who loves His flowers... His morning and sunset skies... His people of rainbow colors... (Genesis 1:26)
John 3:16 KJ, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."
Allegory & Scripture
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