Yes, opinions are onions. Layer after layer, they often make you cry. The outermost layers have to be washed and discarded. The best layers are not really sweet, even if it’s a sweet onion. They come in various colors, and their colors change as they are being peeled. You may really not care for them by themselves. But when combined, or contained, they enhance; they make delicious. Then they leave a telltale taste, a smarting piquancy, onion breath. They are healthy, but they may keep others, especially those not sharing the same taste at the same time, at bay, away, apart.

Onions, and opinions … can make you lonely. What if the opinion is of you? An onion created and dedicated by someone, or several, just for you yourself. How much of you have they seen before their new onion grows, little by little, buried in the earth, in soil, sand, dirt, mud, formed by their own substance, the air, the sunshine, rain, and storms. Oh yes, the onion is more of them than of you. They make a part of themselves, and then they throw it at you. The onion that hits you may be strong or mild. It may be sweet, or rancid.

It may form from an angry moment, or a long, lingering, lasting love, intimate and special. Whatever the case, the tears will come, no matter what you do. You can preserve, pickle, fry, sautee’, smother, even batter. No matter. It becomes a part, however small, of the layers that are you. The moral of this story? Next time you are thrown an onion, try not to get hit in the eye.