Pineapple: a metaphor

My mother planted these pineapples in 2011. They've just been there since.

I never noticed when but they competed for nutrients, one triumphed over the other and the other probably died. All we have had for years now is one huge plant with sharp leaves which have caused me a number of scratches. We've been waiting for it to bear fruit, but it won't. My plant-lover best friend had pineapple plants in her own home, and they bore fruit not so long after they were planted. Somewhere in the village, a house had little pineapple fruits on top of the plants outside their gate. So I figured, maybe our plant needed a friend. I couldn't get it one, unfortunately. Thus, earlier this year, I consulted the all-knowing farmer, Google.

I learned about "forcing" the plant to bear fruit by placing apples on it and then covering them with a plastic bag. The idea is to expose the plant to ethylene from the apples because ethylene is a plant hormone that promotes senescence. Ethylene is present in riping fruits, I learned from Bio 12. So I used saging na saba instead and covered it one entire June morning. I didn't know if that was enough or if it would work, but eventually, I resigned to the fact that that plant would never bloom. Whenever I watered it, I'd think, if given a chance, it might make good barong. But what more could I ask for? It already contributes oxygen.

Today, the 25th of December, we discovered it bloomed.

A moment ago's further reading taught me that it sometimes took years for pineapples to bear fruit. For me, the pineapple is a metaphor for waiting. It may bear fruit, it may not -- that's the only way to find out. And it shall forever be a reminder of the craziness of 2014.

For the Lord will not cast off forever, 

but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; 

for he does not afflict from his heart or grieve the children of men.

Lamentations 3:31-33