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  • Writer's pictureJamey Hood

Sri Pinto Bean

In a world of butterflies, sparkles, rainbows, and sunflowers, I felt like a pinto bean.

A little dusty bean that had been used in an underwhelming game of BINGO on a rainy-day recess that found its way onto the floor and got kicked under the bookshelf.

My self-esteem in grade school was rock bottom and I was painfully shy. I would look around at the other children and see all of these adorable attributes, lovable and sweet, bright and cheerful, but I was that bean.

Sweet little bean.

Now when I conjure up that old familiar feeling, oh, I just love that little pinto bean. So much potential in one single bean. So much nourishment and stability. Such a cute shape and lovable color. One little bean capable of producing another little bean and so on in perpetuity. What value in that little bean!

If you were to ask me today what I feel like now, I'd have to say that I feel much more akin to a Disco Ball than a Pinto Bean. Both are sublimely and supremely adorable in their own special way.

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