Ripe
Legacy Name: Ripe

Full Name: Margaret Elise Buchanan
Nicknames: Maggie, Emma, Maret
Age: 15
Birthday: Sept. 25th
Orientation: Straight
Relationship Status: Single
Likes: Picking Apples from Trees, Her Family, Nature, Reading
Dislikes: Insects, Unripened Apples, Rotten Apples, Getting Scolded By Her Parents
Blood Type: AB+
Parents Names: William Alexander Buchanan and Eliza Frances Johanneson-Buchanan
Siblings Names: Elizabeth Agatha, Charlotte Genevieve, Clarissa Lynette, Cynthia Eloise, Louisa Harriet, Lemuel Franklin, Thaddeus Clifford, Abram Edgar, Frederick Graham, Percival Hiram

The apple trees stand about five feet two inches tall. Just tall enough for me to reach up, while on the very tips of toes, and pick all of the apples that grow upon the low-hanging branches. I like picking apples from the trees. It is the only daily chore that I have, of which is very important to my family of thirteen. Without the apples I pick from upon the trees, my family would be poor.

There are, according to my exact count, thirty-two apple trees that grow on our property. And yes, me, Margaret Elise Buchanan, must take a daily trip around to each of the trees to examine how the apples have grown. The ripe ones I must pick, the others I am pressured to leave, so that they too can grow to be beautiful ripe apples. I now am an expert at knowing when the apples shall be picked from the trees, but when I started out with this job, I could not describe myself as such.

The first day of July, nineteen fifty-six, my parents, though if I do remember correctly it was specifically my father, had bestowed upon me the job of picking the ripe apples from all of the trees sprouting from the ground in our back yard. I, of course, was very honored at the fact that they had wanted me to be the one to pick the apples from the trees, and help our family receive money from the apple business we owned. Though I was ecstatic about my new job, I did, in fact, not know anything about what a ripe apple looked like.

Since my parents had not given me any prior knowledge about how to detect the ripeness of an apple, I went into my job picking on a whim. And of course, as one would have expected from a beginner, I did not pick any ripe apples on my first trip. As I was told later by my father. I was very disappointed that I had angered my father, and let down the family business. But, since no one in my family has ever had the label 'quitter' thrust upon their forehead, I vowed to myself that the next morning I would, so happily, pick only the ripe apples from the trees. Though, I still did not know how I was to label the apple as being ripe, when I did not know what a ripe apple looked like.

When I went out the next morning, my parents, but most specifically my father, cautioned me that I must only pick the ripe ones."But father", I began to state, but no sooner than I had started my sentence I felt the hand of my father pushing me out of the door, leaving me to find all of the ripe apples on my own. I examined and examined the apples, always wanting so much as to please my father with the work I had completed, but I did not see an difference between the apples I compared. "Only pick the ripe ones", I repeated to myself. "Only pick the ripe ones".

I soon found myself in a predicament. I still, no matter how much effort I put into staring at the apples, could not tell which ones were ripe. I knew my father would be waiting eagerly inside the house, since I had now been outside for one hour. I quickly gathered apples and prayed that they would turn out to be ripe. But, as I found out when I stepped foot in the house, the apples were not ripe, and my father started to scold me for my terrible work. I, once again felt ashamed by the work I did, and hoped tomorrow would bring me better luck.

The next morning, I set out early, before even my mother awoke, to pick apples from all of the trees. I had hoped and hoped all through the night that today would be the day I finally pick ripe apples from the trees. I began to examine the apples closely, and realized that some apples were bigger than others. I figured that since they were bigger, they had grown more, and they would now be ready to pick. I went around to each of the trees and picked only the large apples from each, hoping that I had finally done work my father would be proud of. I figured he would be awake since I had been outside for what seemed like one hour, and the sun was already beginning to rise.

I entered the house to find that my father was indeed awake. I entered the kitchen to show to him the apples I picked from the trees, and he finally was ecstatic by the work I had accomplished.

"You finally picked the ripe ones, well done Margaret."

And at that moment, that was the greatest thing my father had ever said to me. Finally, I had something to make him proud. Finally, I had done something to help the family. Finally, I had done something that made me feel better about myself.