Lemons

I was in the store's produce section with my 6 year old daughter and saw the lemons. As we picked through them we realized they were mostly the same. It was quickly clear to both of us how no wrong choices exist in picking lemons. It occurred to me: what if this was the perfect moment, perfect lemon, perfect father, daughter, store, you know everything -everything. How simple. Nothing grand just picking out fruit with someone you love.
We took the pretty prizes home. Not much juice and hard as rocks. We cooked together chattering like birds throughout the whole endeavor. The next day as my wife and I bounced through the humid, craggy Houston streets in the creeky Volvo with no struts(absolutely no struts),I mentioned this little story. She reminded me that the car has needed struts for like,the last 2 years and that the lemons really sucked. Really, really sucked. And of course she was right... absolutely right.
I couldn't help but think to myself,perhaps the lemon story's deeper meaning: weren't they the perfect sucky lemons?