Throw Back Thursday

I'm hungry.

I reach into the large desk drawer that is dedicated solely to snacks.  Who needs places to file things anyway? I find a bag of Jolly Ranchers I bought when I was having vocal issues and decided that after a balanced breakfast and a small salad for lunch, I could splurge on a sour watermelon candy. Red dye #5 billion be damned.

My taste buds tingle. My senses flood with the fake aroma of watermelon.  My mind flits back to a simpler time, when my family lived in a brown and tan condo on Blue Ridge Rd. in West Palm Beach. My brother was 10, Brooke was 6 and I was 8. We walked to school every day, as Berkshire Elementary was a block from our house. We'd slip under the 6 foot wooden fence, backpacks sticking occasionally. There was a freedom to walking without an adult, though on the hottest days it felt like a chore.

One day, our parents decided to let us go ACROSS THE STREET to a convenience store.  BY OURSELVES.  It was heaven on earth. Mom gave me 5 dollars and we were allowed to not only cross the street, but to buy WHATEVER WE WANTED AT THE STORE.  This became a bit of a habit for us, as I'm sure Mom wanted us out of the house.  Brooke and I always got the same thing.  I grabbed the long, stick version of a Watermelon Jolly rancher. (See? I got to it eventually.) I usually got fancy and bought a Bluebird Pineapple juice, an odd pairing with the candy, but it tasted like freedom mixed with sunshine. Brooke would get a Sour Apple Jolly Rancher stick and apple juice.

I don't remember what Dan bought, as he was usually trying to distance himself from his stinky sisters as much as possible.  But he walked with us. He made sure we crossed the street safely.  He made sure the guy behind the counter gave us the right change. He was simultaneously protective and disdainful, a trait which lingers to this day.  Nothing tasted better on those summer days than that candy and that juice.  Never mind the home cooked dinners that always greeted us when we got home.   Ignoring the home made ice cream we had every Fourth of July. That candy and that juice taught us how to be independent. It taught me how to look out for my sister.  To bond with her. And any time I taste the overly sweet, somewhat sour taste of a Watermelon Jolly Rancher, it takes me back to those days of innocence that I will never, ever get back.

I hope that some day, when I have kids of my own, I'll be able to do the same for them.  I haven't give up hope for this world that we live in to get better.  There's overwhelming evidence that we are on a downward spiral, but there's also glimmers of light everywhere that make me think that someday, my kids will be able to play in their own yard with no fear.  That I'll be able to call them in from scraping their knees and enjoying the sunshine.

Eh, who am I kidding?  My kids will probably need to be called from their rooms where they will be reading.