The grinding sound of truck tires driving in the gravel lane filled the air as I sat in the house reading an encyclopedia. Leaping to my feet, I peered out the window.
Mom had just returned from the produce auction in Lewisburg with some peaches.
Slamming the door behind me, I raced across the thick green grass and leaped onto the bed of our truck.
On the back of the pickup sat four boxes of peaches. Grinning triumphantly, I reached into a box searching until I found a ripe one. Just before I bit into it, Mom said, “Steven, don’t eat any peaches; it will ruin your supper.” Sadly, I tossed the peach back into the box and then slowly walked away.
Several hours later, Dad called from the veal barn. “Steven, go pick the radishes for our Friday market produce stand.”
After picking, washing, and banding the radishes, I carried them into the old cooler which was inside the red bank barn. The cooler door squeaked as I yanked it open. There along the cooler walls sat the four boxes of the tantalizing peaches. I stared at the peaches, my mouth watering. I quickly set the radishes down. Oh, how good they looked. Surely a little peach wouldn’t ruin a starving ten-year-old’s supper. Mom wouldn’t know if I only took one peach.
Deep in my heart, a battle between right and wrong started to develop. I knew that sneaking was wrong, but those peaches looked way too good.
After devouring the peach, I scanned the dark interior of the barn for a good hiding place to put the peach stone. I looked across the onions, laying on drying racks, to the open hay bale. The only problem was that if I put the stone under the hay someone could find it. Then I spied the holes in the barn siding boards on the west side of the barn. If I pushed the stone through one of those holes it would land beside the road. Then, if someone saw it, they would think that it came from a passing vehicle.
I jammed the stone through the hole, peering out as it fell beside the road. At that split second, I felt a searing pain on my forehead. Frantically, I sprang back. There above the hole hung a yellow jacket nest. Then I saw the culprit as it hovered over me trying to sting me again. I sprinted out the barn door, slamming the door into the yellow jacket’s face.
That evening my forehead swelled like a balloon, making it difficult to look out of my eyes.
A few hours later, everyone else went to bed. I laid on the couch so that Mom could occasionally check up on me during the night. But I just couldn’t fall asleep. My face was inflamed and itchy, but all that I could think about was the guilt and remorse of what I had done.
After several agonizing hours, I gathered the courage to slide off the couch and tiptoed over to my parent’s bedroom. Awakening my parents, I told them the whole story… how I ate the peach, then tried to hide the stone, and how I had gotten stung.
My parents forgave me, deciding that this was one lesson that I wouldn’t soon forget. Walking back to the couch with a light heart, I laid down, and quickly fell into a peaceful sleep.
