Morning walks are different in my new neighborhood, where nary a person, a bird, or a bambi can be seen. It’s mostly a working neighborhood so all is quiet after a steady flow of cars depart in the morning.  
The walk is flatter, more landscaped, and look what I’ve discovered along the way. Two unattended cherry tomato plants, my favorite. Perhaps those are even grape tomatoes. At first I couldn’t believe it. Who plants these treasures and doesn’t pick religiously? Surely that’s against the Veggie Law. Surely there must be crooks living in that house.
Here’s what hurts. I left my beloved vegetable garden behind when I moved, and the three plants laden with red and gold cherries are languishing without me. Seeing this abandoned little vegetable patch everyday is rubbing salt in my tomato wound. 
The urge to pick without permission is growing and is a daily reminder of how my eating habits have gone downhill since this relocation process began a couple months ago. A mind full of moving details leaves little room for thinking about, let alone cooking up, a decent meal. Brain capacity has been met! 
Grabbing whatever’s easiest has been, well, easy. That meant the already-prepared stuff — deli, bag of chips, box of crackers, hunks of cheese, cans of chili, burger and fries. The list of convenient meals is vast. But, silly girl, you can’t get much easier than popping a tomato or three in your mouth. Oh, what I’ve put in my body through lately. It’s time to be kind… time to get healthy again. 
Every day these little red beacons signal me to get back on track, because I know it feels good to feel good. So far I’ve resisted the urge to make a quick pick and getaway. There’s no car in the drive, but is someone watching from behind those blinds?