Banana Intention

Neither a parked car nor a banana is very extraordinary. I might expect to see a banana resting on a parked car at the bottom of a hiking trail, but who brings a banana to an urban shopping mall? When I think of snacks to munch on during shopping, I don't think of a banana.

Regardless of the reason, some person brought a banana to Oakridge Mall with intention. My goal here is not to uncover the truth behind the banana (because no amount of analysis will elucidate the true intention for the banana at the mall) but to sympathize with its misplacement.

I've left a number of things on the top of my car. Cups of coffee, Jamba Juices, sleeping bags, watches, sunglasses. Most of the time, I only realize my folly when an avalanche of Strawberry Surfrider slides down my windshield. By that point, my watch, my drink, or my sunglasses is usually ruined. So I sympathize and empathize with you, forgetful banana owner.

It is incredibly frustrating to lose your physical items, especially physical items that have specific intentions associated with them. Losing a Jamba Juice is not just about losing $4.00; it is about losing pleasure and fruity-smooth refreshment. One time, in 110 degree weather, I spilled a Bright-Eyed and Blueberry in the back seat of my friend's Rav 4. I was so sad that I ended up licking the smoothie off of the floor mat. My friends thought I was insane, but ignoring the grit and the hairs from the mat, the drink was still quite refreshing. Intention behind these objects is everything!

I sympathize with you banana owner. You probably felt frustrated and angry and confused when you couldn't find your banana. Maybe you wanted a snack break during your trip to Macy's. Or maybe you wanted to feed your infant child a meal while shopping for shoes. Again, I will never know your intention, but I can feel your emotional tremors.

If there was even the smallest miracle of a chance I could have found you, I would have snatched that half-rotten banana and searched the entire mall for you. “Did you leave a banana on your car?” But whom would I ask? All people eat bananas! This is not a size 17 shoe whose owner is obviously a tall person. Delight from a banana is an inner quality, invisible to the naked eye.

Realistically, the odds of our uniting were so small, I simply left your prize on the trunk of the car. But don't think I was apathetic! I thought about you, and in my soul-searching, I thought the best way to help would be to leave the item there in case you returned looking for your banana. We are united, you and me—we are both humans who sometimes lose our intentions.