We’ve been separated for so long.
Thinking back, I never really appreciated the family that I had growing up. From the time that I was the smallest I can remember, I was always surrounded by such a close group that it left me nothing to be worried about. There was always conversation and a feeling of the truest togetherness.
We lived in a small community on an idyllic island. The days were warm and the nights cool. There were so many of us who grew up together. We all used to hang out together and the life we led was relaxed and fulfilling.
That was then.
As I sit here, I think back to the life I had and wonder what has become of all of those that I remember. I’m alone now. Not isolated as one but plucked from that group. I’m now surrounded by strangers from other lands who are so far removed from me as to be utterly alien. Different colours are everywhere.
But we do share a horrible bond.
We were all wrenched from our homes, pulled from the lands that we knew and transported far away. The stories that are told, I can’t understand them all, seem to be saying the same thing. All of us were crammed into different tight transports and hurried away from the ones we love.
We all found ourselves being hustled and split apart as we were bought and sold by different groups. Coins were changing hands right up to the end where I was placed with these others. You can see the harshness of the transport on the skin of the unlucky ones. They are all covered in ever darkening bruises.
It’s cold here.
We all now sit staring from our wooded prison waiting for our end to come. I can feel myself and those others around me all withering away as the time we spend stripped from our roots passes.
What will be the end for me?
Looking around where I am I can see such comfort but I can see that I’m here only for the short term.
I really miss my family.
It’s tough being a banana.