Yogurt-Containered Peaches

Several years ago, my mother received a recipe for canned peaches. She would use the peaches from our tree, a peach tree, no less, and store the peaches in old yogurt containers (usually Astro, with the lime green graphics). I loved peaches. I adored them. I was infatuated with peaches. My mother has long since been divested of her domestic goddess status, the peach tree was cut down by irresponsible and unsavoury tenants, and all that remains of my infatuation are the smoldering remains of a peach cobbler. Note to self: find out how to cobble a peach. I wonder though, what ever became of my love for all things peachy. Did I simply grow out of the relationship, as I did with my love for all things purple, or is there a deeper cause to the rift? Have I, my tastes, and my thoughts changed so very much that I cannot reconcile myself to produce? If I can renew a friendship with a person I did not see for 10 years, why can I not renew a love that I have always cherished? Given that love changes a person, why does it change a person to the point where they no longer feel only that very specific love? Now that I've successfully read too much into fruit, I'm going to go back to being a productive member of society.