Bite The Apple Minced

You cut over and over.
        First to half its height, next a quarter, followed by whatever comes after that. Eventually, you reach the point where the size of the apple that you wanted to bite and needed to bite has been minced.
For whatever your reason was, you felt it would best to mince such a highly-praised fruit. Now you're down to 1/8",
Next 1/16",               And now 1/32".          You realize that if you keep going that you will have a mushy Apple.
Tears start falling from your face.
It's been three days since you had to go to the city morgue and identify your child's body.
In a fit of rage, you throw the knife at the wall, slide the cutting board with the minced apple. Resting on top to the ground and sit on the floor for what seems like a lifetime.
You play his entire life in your mind.
Trying to make sense of it,
Trying to figure out where you went wrong,                         Trying to figure out what happened.
                                                                                However,
the only thing you can remember, the only thing that you see when you close your eyes is him touching the second to last thing in the apartment.
                                                                               An Apple.
You see there comes a point in time where people grow old and do eventually die...
Even apples become old and wrinkly then rotten and fade into the ocean of ashes that surround them;                                                   The soil.
Of all the possibilities,                                                    you felt that it was best to mince the apple.
Of all the possibilities,                                                    you felt it was in your best interest as a parent to keep an eye on your child.
                                                                  Who has smoked occasionally with his friends at their place.
You felt it was wrong.
Your baby who has never been arrested.
Your little man who is sexually active before marriage. You felt that he went astray when he met her.
Your best friend who took a little longer to graduate, who felt that you were too involved with his college life, who wanted space.
                                                                               So, you cut him off mid-semester. Told him to get a job and make it work.
You minced words day after day, night after night, hours after hours,  mother,  then father,  or both in conversation with him.
You felt it was your job as a parent.
All he wanted was space.  
Little was given for the knife chopped the apple to a minced fruit that you now longer want.
It Would’ve much easier to just have a simple apple.
It's been three days since you were called to give recognition to your son's face on a cold steel table. Out of a hectic night they confused your son with his best friend. Everyone always thought they were twins. You realized it wasn't your son by the missing tattoo on his right arm of a wolf holding a quill.
You didn't approve of his tattoo and in a heat of mincing words at him and his lifestyle and his choices you told him to pack his stuff and leave.
                                                                                       He called his best friend to come pick him up.
                   He went packed and packed his stuff.
He came down the stairs by the kitchen. You looked at him in shame while you were making apple sauce.
                       Asked him where did you as a parent go wrong.
                                                                                                              He told you that you went wrong when you decided to keep him as a baby instead of adoption.
                                                                                                               He went into the fridge grabbed his favourite fruit.
                                                                            An Apple
And walked out the door.
                                              He sits paralyzed in his room from the knees down.
                                                                                                                                            His girlfriend comes to take care of her fiancé.
                                                          He proposed to her the night he left.
Sometimes in this life, you make choices and you think you made the right choice.
That's the problem.
Sometimes thinking isn't enough.
Sometimes you need to know.
Know when to Bite the apple, not have it Minced.
~V.

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