Tomatoes

I entered a contest.  In the back of my mind, I told myself that I probably wouldn't win, but I entered anyway.  It reminded me of the time that I entered to win the Publisher's Clearing House when I was 8. My mom had told me that no one really won those things anyway and it wasn't worth my time, but I secretly filled it out and sent it in, imagining the surprise on my family's faces when Ed McMann showed up to MY house.

I recently found out about a contest for Earth Fare, a tomato photo contest.  I may not be the photographer that my sister is, but I figured I might as well enter.  I didn't tell many people, mostly for fear that I'd have nothing to tell them if they asked about it later.  But photos I did take.  Many of them. I sent them to my sister and she gave me suggestions, told me which ones she liked, etc.. I deliberated for too long over the decision of which one to submit.  And finally, an hour before the deadline, I submitted.  The prize?  A gift card to Earth Fare.  May seem small, but every bit helps.

About 5 days passed before the results were released.  20 finalists chosen.  Mine?  not among them.  All along, I told myself that it didn't matter if I won, that i was glad to have the experience and the photos, yada, yada...  But it still stung.

Because no matter how old I am, or how crazy the chances, I still hope that I might be chosen.  And it still hurts when I'm not.  I guess that's part of what keeps us fragile enough to be human.