Before further conversation, I grabbed my brown suitcase, the one Derek was still holding in his hand. “I think I’ll make the switch before we forget,” I said with a wry laugh.
Ignoring me, he tapped his finger on his forehead. “I knew I recognized you. Bob. Bob’s girlfriend.”
“Ex- girlfriend,” I interrupted quickly. (Story begins with The Wrong One and then Summertime Baggage.)
Derek continued, “At my parent’s Christmas party in Brookline. Bob and I were…” Continue reading
My eyes dart around the front of the store when I first enter, bells tinkling to announce my arrival.
If there is a cluster of school girls, or worse, a cadre of 70-something women wearing plaid coats that smell like moth balls, I distract the group (for instance, by exclaiming “Oh my gosh, look at that horrible fistfight going on two doors down”).
That usually gets rid of my competition for the 10-12 seconds I need to get in front of the line.
I pick which black-and-white-striped clerk wants to help me. No, not the officious, tight-bunned, narrow-lipped woman whose nametag says “Brenda.” She’s stingy.
I smile at Ralph, roly-poly and sweet. He recognizes me and acknowledges, “Just dark, right?”
I wink back and he whips out a dark chocolate buttercream sample. Then, if Brenda is looking the other way, he pops out a free dark
chocolate caramel too.
“Thanks,” I say gratefully. “Now I just need a small bag and please add…”(and I’m embarrassed to admit how quickly and succinctly I point through the glass display)… “two nougats, one marshmallow, one almond, two dark chocolate cherries, and then, of course…”
“The Marzipan!” Ralph crows.
“Three!” I blurt out.
He triumphantly plops them into the bag, weighs them, and I hand over my cash. We silently high five each other as the Girl Scouts shuffle back into the store, unhappy that they had no luck witnessing a fight.
“Sweeten up,” I mumble to them as I back out of the store stuffing the anonymously white bag into my purse.
Pondering the things I wish I’d known.
What do you wish you’d known in your past, now that you’ve reached some type of maturity and can look back?
When I encourage my writing class students to write their list of “Things I Wish I’d Known,” I write along with them, thinking it’s an easy exercise.But I’m surprised by my first esoteric response:
“Never, ever give up chocolate.”
Embarrassed, but intent on following my own instructions of just writing out the first things that come to mind, I continue my list:
“Give to others, but be sure to also give to yourself.”
My grandson already knows some of the things I wish I’d known.
The following one surprises me:
“Don’t worry so much about hurting someone else’s feelings.”
Wait a minute. I catch a glimmer of something.
The next insightful “wish I’d known” advises:
“Those you love, love more; those you don’t like – avoid more.”
Ah, I’m connecting all the dots, or all the “wish I’d knowns,” to be more exact.
Never ever give up chocolate expresses all of the above platitudes, only better.
Never give up what I am, what I need, what is right for me.
Ever.
I’ve learned that yes, it’s important to keep others happy, to take care of them, to be a “good” mother,wife,daughter,friend,colleague,sister,aunt,grandmother,mom-in-law,sis-in-law,cousin.
But, I shouldn’t have to give up ME to be a good anything.
Not that I’d give up my mistakes and misdirections and missions lost. I needed each and every one of those experiences to get here – to a chocolate-loaded life of love, wonder, worry, pleasure, sadness, but mostly joy.
Particularly if I have a piece of saved (and hidden) dark chocolate buttercream nearby.
What’s on YOUR list of “things you wish you’d known”…?
P.S. I also wish I’d known that poetry can be fun, instructive, soul-searching, and beautiful. If you feel the same way about poems, my blogging friend Karen Elliott is featuring a Poetry Week February 18-23 – check it out at http://karenselliott.wordpress.com/ (one of my poems will be featured on Friday, 2/22).
roughwighting 