18 November 2018

Day 34: Candy

I'm writing Ann Dee Ellis' 8 Minute Memoirs in place of #NaNoWriMo.

Oh, candy. It has long been near and dear to my heart. I have, for most of my life, inserted candy into non-candy locations. I served candy at my wedding reception. I sold candy in grade school when I didn't have an allowance. I would take on Warheads or Atomic Fireball dares in elementary because it would mean a free piece of candy. I still live for the early Christmas season when the Hershey's Candy Cane bars hit the shelves (I had my first one of the season yesterday). As a kid, whenever I heard someone mention liquor, I would automatically fix it to "licorice" in my head. I always keep a little candy on hand, in case of emergencies. You know, candy emergencies.

The candy stash is not a new phenomenon of course. I have been keeping candy on hand since I figured out what candy was. When my family lived in California, I could usually keep Airheads on hand. Because they were so flat, I could hide them in between the bed slats and mattress of the upper bunk. Impossible for intruders to find, which didn't keep my brother from trying, of course. One day, this brother, Lars, went into my room hoping to find the secret location of my candy stash. He had no idea there were Airheads between the bed slats and mattress and he didn't think to look there. He poked around in my dresser, my sheets, and my pillowcase, and the sugar was nowhere to be found. After giving up on the upper bunk area, he jumped off the dresser he had climbed upon. I'm not sure exactly how long he lay there on the floor, unsure of what to do, afraid to be caught in my room but in pain. My mom first realized something was wrong when she called everyone in for dinner and Lars wasn't rushing to be the first to the table. She found him, there in the middle of my floor, his leg broken.

All for candy.

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