I eat watermelon every year for my birthday.

“Oh, that’s pretty normal,” I hear you saying. “Especially since your birthday is in June! I’m sure it pairs perfectly with whatever cookout or pool party or other seasonal celebration you are holding.”

No. No. I don’t share it. I eat a WHOLE watermelon every year for my birthday.

That’s usually the line that gets people interested. Suddenly, the air in the room ignites as curiosity stirs. It’s the reaction all of my coworkers in the newsroom had the first time I said it.

But that was more than two years ago. Once you work with other people for long enough, they get used to your quirks and your weirdnesses. Suddenly, no one cares that you eat an entire watermelon annually, except to roll their eyes when you say it for the umpteenth time.

That’s the point I thought we had reached earlier this month, in the days leading up to my 25th revolution around the sun. Boredom.

And yet, on the Friday before my birthday, I came back from my lunch break to find a watermelon waiting for me on my desk. Correction. A MASSIVE watermelon was waiting for me on my desk. As in, almost everything had to be moved off my desk to accommodate this melon.

I immediately dubbed it Melly, which made my editor ask, “do you always name things you’re about to eat?” But this melon deserved it. When I got it home and got it on my scale, it weighed 34 pounds even. My husband thought the scale was broken. I’d like to offer my sincerest respect to the farmer who grew her. You are gifted, my friend.

Unfortunately, I am not only aging, but moving back to my hometown at the same time. While The Dispatch has allowed me to continue working as its Lifestyles editor remotely, certain things have fallen through the cracks – namely my ability to do laundry and not live out of a suitcase. Butchering and eating an entire watermelon on my birthday also fell to the bottom of my priorities list. The day came and went, and the melon stayed whole.

But last week, I was emptying my apartment of its final cardboard boxes, when I realized the melon was still there. I loaded it up in my brother’s truck, sticking it in the floorboards to try to stop it from rolling around, and then kept filling up the truck bed with the rest of my belongings.

As I made the two and a half hour journey back to the Memphis area, the boxes in the truck bed shifted around a bit, since there wasn’t enough to fully fill the bed. Which was fine, mostly. But then, as I approached Winona, I saw dark storm clouds on the horizon.

Knowing I’d rather be safe than sorry, I got out of the truck, got out my tarp, and attempted to strap it down over the boxes in the back, tucking the edges under the bottoms of the boxes. Then I headed on. But soon, the boxes shifted, and the tarp was flapping in the breeze again.

I know, this makes me sound like a complete idiot. But as I drove, fixing the tarp became a fast-repeating cycle. I kept trying to find other ways to strap it or tuck it or otherwise get it held down just right to not block my view, but it just kept flying up.

Parked on the side of a highway next to a cow pasture, I was at my wits’ end. With lowing and other moos in the background, I called my mother.

“I just wish I had something to hold the dang thing down!” I said, nearly shaking from frustration.

And then, my eyes drifted to the melon in the floorboards.

I lifted Melly from her place beneath the passenger seat and slid her down into the truck bed, between the boxes and on top of the newly non-flapping tarp. A perfect fit.

For the rest of the drive, I thanked the Lord for that 34 pound watermelon with complete and total sincerity. Because even though I hadn’t gotten to complete my birthday ritual, I felt like that melon was there for me exactly when I needed it.

When I got home, I unpacked the truck, and I immediately butchered that 34 pound watermelon. But this time, I shared that immense blessing with others. I’m living a lot closer to my family now, which was part of my rationale for splitting it. Also, I think if I tried to eat an entire 34 pound watermelon in one sitting, I might prove that I literally lost my mind out there in that cow pasture.

Melly also reminded me of a delicious watermelon salsa my mom used to make literally every summer, so I thought I would share part of the melon’s blessing with you. I hope you enjoy this fresh, fruity and savory salsa.

WATERMELON SALSA

Ingredients
3 cups finely diced seedless watermelon
2 jalapeno peppers, seeded and minced
1/3 cup chopped cilantro
1/4 cup lime juice
1/4 cup minced red onion (about 1/2 small)
1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste

Directions
■ Prepare all ingredients. Add watermelon, jalapenos, cilantro, lime juice and onion to a medium bowl and stir well to combine. Season with salt.
■ Serve chilled or at room temperature.

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