We have eaten our fill of regret in this life. Walked into the candy store with the sad threadbare little man sitting on the cold pavement just outside. Where the owner of the shop promises we will feel better if we just buy one more thing, and he walks around in the pinstripe suit that he paid for with the currency of our troubles as he encourages us yet again to “buy, buy, buy”.
And we gobble up the saltwater taffy of our unshed tears. And we stow away for tomorrow the caramels of regret. And we chew and chew and chew on the coconut chocolates of discontent.
But today I begin to think that these candies are not as sweet as I once allowed myself believe. They are dryin’ up the words of peace right off my tongue, they are soakin’ up the joy I carry in my heart, and they are leavin’ me with a bad taste in my mouth.
So I’m walking out of this shop filled with brightly colored lies and I will not be coming back. And I may need you. I will need you. To help me write new recipes for the candy canes of colored love, the gumdrops of friendship, the nougats of happiness, and the toblerones of compassion filled with a creamy center of forgiveness.
And when we’ve discovered the secrets (when to stir, when to add more sugar for an extra shot of first-kiss butterflies), let’s start our own candy shop.
Let’s make the whole world our candy shop.
And when the man in the pinstripe suit comes in, and he does not understand, let’s take him gently by the hands with our own joyful candy-making hands and tell him that he never has to eat regret again.
-Jessi Sanders 2012