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Popcorn Bones

I always thought the inside of popcorn consisted only of the kernel. Of course there's stuff like carbohydrates or sodium in it as well, or even preservatives if you buy the good ones that you can only get at the movies, but I was talking about the main, see-able components. There is the edible crunchy shell of the popcorn, and then there is the kernel. 

Enough about popcorn ingredients. What I'm trying to say is that like all else in the world, there is more to popcorn than we may think. What if I were to tell you that they have bones and minds and stories to tell, just like you and me? 

We judge popcorn like we do all else in the universe. We continually grab for the most buttery, crunchy piece, leaving the kernels for the trash. Just minutes ago I was crouching in the bitter cold of February, my gradually reddening fingers clutching a camera. The popcorn strings in front of me lay entangled in the dogwood tree, the white having turned a muddy mixture of yellowy brownish gray. Leaves from a holly bush sat strung with the corn, an occasional cranberry popping up throughout the red thread. The bones of the popcorn stacked up, connecting from one frail branch to another. Some thread was bare, the squirrels having stolen the decorations for food. 

It saddens me deeply, actually. Not the fact that the squirrels had taken the decor, no, that I was perfectly fine with. Just seeing the remnants of the holiday season seemed to suck all the joy out of me. It seemed like a metaphor that all good was about to disappear.

Popcorn does tell a story. They do have a purpose. All things do, if you look at it from afar. Like artwork, anything can be anything if you simply look at it in a particular way.

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