Living on Guam, we have a few simple pleasures that come around seasonally. We may not have the vibrant colors of fall or the sudden burst of growth through melting snow, but we still have seasons. Ours, while occasionally marked by weather (we have a rainy season and a dry season), are also marked by bug prevalence, fruit and vegetable production, and pollen running rampant at different times of the year. One such season is mango season.
I’ve been anxiously watching the trees since October—when they first flowered—waiting for the little blossoms to turn into green nubs, and then into the mango shapes we know and love.
Now, I have to tell you, I was anxious for two reasons. One: I am very excited to have fresh mango at my disposal again. It is oh-so-delicious in my smoothies, and I’ve been longing to add it back in. I also love a ripe mango… but I’m allergic to mango pollen. It’s bad. If it gets on or near my face? Swollen lips, red face, and hives for days.
All hope is not lost, though. As long as I take my allergy meds, wash the fruit, and don’t eat it directly off the skin, I’m good to go—for the most part.
Now, let’s talk about the first mango of 2025.
My sister, mom, and I were sitting around our outside dining table enjoying breakfast when we noticed a sunset-streaked fruit stuck in some old chicken wire (which had once contained chickens and probably will again someday).
Rex (my sister) asked if it was a mango. I exclaimed, “It is!”—quickly followed by, “We should go get it!”
Rex got up to do just that, but I told her to wait until after breakfast. I should go with her, and I wasn’t about to abandon my fried rice to the insects of the world—not even for a mango. She agreed, and I added, “That way, if you fall, I’m there to witness it.”
My mom asked if that was just so I could laugh at her.
No… but I would be laughing as I helped her up.
So, we head over once the plates are cleared. Rex goes down into the jungle of wire while I stay at the top. I ask if it’s actually a mango.
She says, “Yeah, here,” and throws the mango at me.
Now, so many panicked thoughts went through my head—but the primary one was, “I can’t let that mango drop!” Allergic consequences be damned.
It may also be worth noting that I had not, in fact, taken my allergy meds yet.
My sister froze the second she remembered that, but it was too late—I’d already touched the butt (Finding Nemo for the win).
I hurried to the sink, washed my hands and the mango. I was fine. I took my allergy meds to make sure it stayed that way.
We feasted upon the flesh of that mango, and it
