Yesterday
I slipped on a pair of jeans I had not worn for quite a while. In the change
pocket on my hip I found a little ball of foil wrappers from Hershey’s candy
Kisses. There’s only one place it could have come from, and that is my mom’s
place.
My
mother maintained a crystal candy dish full of all the different incarnations
of that candy Kiss. My favorite is the original, of course. I could not resist,
on my visits there where she would comment on my growing beer belly and express
her concern over my health. What she really didn’t like is the look of me growing
older. None the less I would help myself to a candy Kiss or four whenever I was
there. The ones with the almond centers were good too.
One
of the best memories of my mom is when she took us to Pennsylvania to Hershey
Park. I was maybe four or five at the time. I remember the factory where they made those delicious chocolate bars of my
youth. We also went to visit some relatives on a farm and I was placed on the
first of many horses I would perch upon. Later I would get all spooked by a
bull and fall right into a cow pie as I ran from the corral where it was penned.
I ran toward my mom only to be intercepted by my laughing great uncle who
redirected me to a hose bib where he helped me wash up.
Good
times.
All
wrapped up in a tiny little ball of candy wrapping foil.
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