I'M A KIWI - CHAPTER 1 [EN]

August 10, 2026

Back in 2017, someone whose opinion I valued told me I should try writing because they thought I was “very good at it.” With my first pseudonym as a shield, I decided to take the plunge and write my first story. It was a simple, short tale about a little girl who sometimes felt very different from everyone else, without really knowing why. Word by word, scene by scene, and line of dialogue by line of dialogue, the story gradually wove itself together until it reached its end. It was as though a bottle that had been gathering bubbles for years suddenly burst open, releasing, in great foaming gushes, all sorts of things I had never imagined were inside me, pouring out into the world. I’M A KIWI was the cork that went POP! one day, allowing me to believe that perhaps I really could fulfil my dream of writing, telling stories, and sharing them with others. Now, I dare to share it with all of you, one chapter a week, in a bilingual Spanish-English edition, hoping that you will enjoy it and that it will help or comfort you as much as it did little Sofía…

 

I’M A KIWI – CHAPTER 1

That afternoon Sofía went with her father to the grocery store. She loved to tag along when he went shopping. Actually, she loved to do anything with him. It was a cold and clear day, one of those days that was both freezing and sunny. Sofía wore a hat, scarf, and gloves, and walked holding her father’s hand, which felt big, warm, and safe. They walked to the store and got there in no time.

“You take care of this,” said her father, handing her a short list written on a piece of lined yellow paper. “We’ll meet by the produce station, right in front of the pineapples” and he winked at her before turning around and rushing up the cereal aisle.

Sofía liked this game, seeing who would get to the pineapples first. She knew her father had twice as many things on his list, but she tried her hardest to be the first one there. And she usually was.

Resolutely, she grabbed a basket from the stack and ran to the canned food aisle: tomato sauce. Check. Tuna. Check. Corn. Check.

Then the milk: whole and semi-skimmed.

Hotdogs. Wieners. Sliced bacon. Both from the same brand.

Cocoa powder: Instant. No need to waste time stirring lumps. In the mornings there’s not even time to breathe.

Eggs: half a dozen. She grabbed one of the green boxes with pictures of some cute hens enjoying themselves in the open.

She got a loaf of bread last and arrived breathless, almost skidding, to the fruit produce section. When she was with her mother she never skidded. “Sofía, behave! You will bother other people or get yourself dirty!”

She saw her father walking down the cleaning products aisle, coming her way. He would now shake her hand as a gracious loser and together they would buy their vegetables, fruit, cold cuts, meat, and fish. Her mother liked to freeze meat and fish for the whole month and take some back out as she needed it. Then they would check the refrigerated and frozen products, pay, and walk back home.

While the check-out girl was scanning their stuff (beep, beep, beep) Sofía bagged everything following the principles that her father had passed on to her through the years: place the heaviest stuff at the bottom and the lightest ones on top, so that the more delicate items don’t get crushed under so much weight. Refrigerated and frozen products go together in the same bag so they stay cool longer. The eggs go right on top, watch it! Don’t break them!

Sofía found it fascinating that there was a logical and proper way to get things done and eagerly gulped up the advice:

– To make orange juice you have to hold the orange by the stalk and the bottom, like this. Now you cut it and squeeze it, this way you will get more juice. Yummy!

– To chop up an onion, you just need to cut it into slices, pile them up, and cut it against the grain. Chop, chop, chop. Fast and tearless!

– To cook an egg à la coq boils it exactly for four and a half minutes. You will get a wonderful egg, done on the outside with a runny yolk, warm and delicious.

– And if you prefer a hard-boiled egg, take it out with a wooden spoon (never a metal one). If the water evaporates fast and the shell dries up in the blink of an eye, then it’s done, if it takes longer, put it back in.

With her father, there were always new things to learn, and she was always eager to learn them.

They hurried back home hunching their shoulders under the cold weather. They left the bags on the kitchen table and began to sort out the groceries while turning, opening cabinet doors, and closing drawers in perfect choreography. Sofía was still putting away her share by the time her father had finished. She was thorough and a perfectionist.

“Let me wash up and I’ll make some popcorn,” her father said. Sofía nodded while opening the fridge to put away the eggs.

And then it happened.

THE SURPRISE.

When her father returned, he found his daughter sitting on a chair at the table, staring at the opened box of eggs. He went around her silently, stopping behind her, and he looked in as well. Then he cracked up. It was a fresh and slightly broken laughter. Old and throaty. Simple and vibrant. Sofía just loved to hear him, always so calm and patient, laugh that way. And every time it happened, she felt like telling him: “Come on, dad, let your hair down!” (She loved that expression).

The box was open before them, shamelessly displaying five perfect brown eggs and, smack dab in the middle of the first row, an absurd and hairy brown kiwi. A thistle among roses.

“Well, well, well. Never in my entire life have I seen anything like that” her father blurted out, shaking his head and trying to quash the fit of laughter that had left him breathless. “What are you doing here, little fella? What an idea…” Sofía remained still “I’ll have to return it” and he reached for the box to close it.

“No!” replied his daughter vehemently. “I enjoy looking at it.” And she reopened the box.

Her father became serious and watched her for a while before asking.

“Why do you like to look at it, Sofía?”

“Because it is like me”, she said.

A weightless fog of silence hovered in the kitchen. The girl stared at the kiwi, and the father stared at the girl as if trying to decode a complex encrypted message. Then he said:

“This is what we’ll do. We’re gonna boil these eggs so they don’t break and mess everything up. Once they have cooled down, we will put them back in their box so you can keep them in some secret place in your room, ok?”

Sofía’s smile lit up her father’s heart as if it were an x-ray. White on black. They had just shared a radiant moment of understanding and complicity. Of acceptance.

“And now, let’s hurry up and get another box of eggs before your mom gets home.”

(Illustration by Iona García García)

Read this chapter in Spanish: [Versión en Español]