I was just squeezing some limes to make some limeade when a memory from my childhood came back to me.
Back when I as about 9 or 10, my sister had moved to St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands with her boyfriend. We were invited to visit for a couple of weeks. I remember a lot of our trip. It was a really cool place.
They had a small house that felt like it was in the rainforest. Rainwater was harvested off the roof in a cistern for drinking and bathing. It was a neat house with a back porch with hammocks.
Behind the house through a small forested area was the neighbor’s house. There was another boy about my age living there with his little brother. My brother and I spent time with them in an adjacent field where we hacked weaving trails in the tall Johnson Grass. We had so much fun running around in there.
In the field was a lime tree. My friend and I decided that we would keep the limes to ourselves and told our little brothers that they were poisonous Wallas so they wouldn’t pick any.
I don’t know where I came up with the name but it makes me smile to this day whenever I see a lime.