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  • Writer's picturePhillip Gerson

Metaphors aside for a moment

For a time in my life, I was corn. Not corny. That's not what I meant. I. Was. Corn, And I grew just as corn grows. I evolved, and learned to charm, and I was a part of the Corn Family. A huge family. Tall and Green, towering with kindness. Flowering tassels of love at the top of my stock. Good corn times for real.

But I was a much different person back then and there. During the Era of Corn. I was a Child of the Corn. Not to be confused the novel and the mediocre movie adaption titled Children of the Corn. Totally different thing. You see, I began as a corn seed too, metaphorically speaking, germinating. Let's say my tentacles were spreading into the soil, Once again, a metaphor. Not knowing what lies ahead. That is not allegorical. Waiting for the last frost of spring to finally become something new. Also, very true.

But during my Corn Years, things began to change. And not just for me. Everyone around me. We were not acting as one unified corn field. We had become. I am going to say it. A maze within our own corn field. That is some symbolism right there. Because think about a maze. It always leads to something new. But this time, for first time, that was not the case. The Corn life was not for me. Sure, I was corn, but unhappy corn at that. All my fellow stocks were distant with no mutual sense of temperature. I avoided all contact and kept the fertilizer very close by. And I needed to move on. A new chapter. With corn served very rarely.

And now here I am.

But I won't forget the pollination, vacations. Soil forever moist with endless kernels on the cob.

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