Research Paper On Cantaloupe

The Cantaloupe Seed

Leaving my Life of a Plant class, I walked (or, my version of walking: I slid) through the moist, orange hallways, thinking deeply about my Later Life. Soon, my cantaloupe, my current habitat, will be fully ripened. I, as a seed, will make my way into the dark and sandy California soil, where I can grow into a green, lush, cantaloupe plant.

Before I go further, I should clarify how my Life of a Plant instructors know about Later Life (after all, we are inside a cantaloupe; how would they know?). When a fruit starts to grow, Mother Plant sends an instructor (by way of her stem) from her roots. She has taught them about the life of a seed, and they are to teach us of what will become of us.

The topic of today’s discussion

was that we seeds don’t have to grow. I’d always assumed we didn’t have a choice. Instead of sprouting, I could remain in the ground. What would happen after, I knew not. Would I shrivel up into a dried bean and become part of the soil?
Becoming a plant is painful; imagine shedding your skin (I have a seed coat)! The only reason I could come up with to stay in the dirt was to avoid the pain. When the instructors arrived, they pulled us out of the walls of the juicy, fleshy cantaloupe to educate us about Later Life. And I’ll tell you something. It hurt. A lot. Only one seed cried. I was that seed.
Now that I reflect on it, I’m not sure that I want to grow up into a cantaloupe plant. After all, it’s pretty obvious that I don’t cope well with… discomfort. I’m a house of cards on an unsteady table; I crumble easily. If becoming a plant is as bad as they say, then why bother? What do I owe anyone, the Earth, the humans, that I should have to do this? But then again, what about death? I imagine death similar to the never-ending nothingness of a black hole (#science nerd), which is rather frightening. You could call me a coward. You could also say I am a “glass half empty,” although I don’t like to think about myself in such ways.
If I look at this from a “glass half full perspective,” why shouldn’t I go for it?

I will only have one shot at this, and I will forever wonder how life could have turned out if I reject my chance. Also in class, we discussed how humans enjoy us and get nourishment from us. It would give me satisfaction to know I’d done something useful and meaningful with my life.

❄ ❄ ❄

The day finally came. A human picked my cantaloupe, and I was not devoured but neatly planted in the backyard of a woman, named Sophia, in her mid-fifties. Unfortunately, I was still undecided. Sprout and endure the pain, or remain inside my protective seed coat?

Suddenly, something unexpectedly guided me to the path I should choose. Thoughts about how caring the lady had been when she had planted me, and how she had told the air she couldn’t wait to see me grow. I couldn’t stand to let her down. Why should I? I made up my mind. I was going to persevere and become a plant.

❄ ❄ ❄

It had been four months since I decided to grow up (but don’t go calling me old). Yes, it hurt; but my Later Life had been by far worth it. I am proud to say that seven, beautiful cantaloupes have come from me. There is nothing greater than watching your young thrive. Sophia has loved and cared for me every second. I look at the big blue sky every day and think that I have never had a single regret about my choice of becoming a cantaloupe

plant.