If I think back to my childhood, it’s almost surprising how I rarely remember conversations. None of us remember everything from our childhood. Do we simply forget or do other overpowering incidents take precedence and we override the previous memory? Our early years are what mold us and yet we become so distant to most of the experiences.
What I remember more vividly from my childhood is how something or someone made me feel. I recall my environment and feelings that arose from that setting. For example; on certain travels, I can still remember sleeping under the stars and counting them. They seemed so much closer than where I lived and we never slept under the sky out in the open. I recall my aunt beside me but not the conversations we had. The excitement overrode my thinking capacity. I was enthralled at how big the sky was and within that midnight blue, how I could almost touch and count every bright star in the galaxy and that’s all I remember from those trips.
As children we also remember how things tasted and smelled, we almost always remember the foods we didn’t like, but then there are certain foods we loved; chocolate for instance. I loved chocolate and I have one memory as a child, the one I remember in its entirety; stealing chocolate covered biscuits from my mother’s pantry late at night. It sounds insane but for a little girl there was a certain element of thrill in creeping down the stairs and closing the door behind me and just devouring chocolate in the dark. They were bought to be consumed but my little mind made it exciting by executing this event in secrecy. I was always a good, timid child so being rebellious was short lived but thrilling.
I hardly remember birthday gifts but I remember being gifted chocolate covered Easter eggs by my aunt every year. She had the best job ever, she worked in a chocolate factory. I remember saving my pocket money to buy bars of chocolate, trying a different one each week until I still couldn’t find my favorite. I found myself drooling over the elegantly transpired commercials of European chocolatiers and when Christmas came along, chocolate boxes were found in abundance at our home, finely wrapped delicacies in lavish boxes arrived from friends and family. There’s just something magical about the connection I had with chocolate and christmas time.
Nothing could even compare to the taste of chocolate. The aroma that exploded when you first break open the wrapper, invigorating your senses . The delight in how it melted so seamlessly between your fingers and the sweet taste of heaven as each morsel dissolved on your tongue. And then the slight disappointment of having no more left. I won’t lie, chocolate and I had a love affair beyond words.
My affair with chocolate was so intense, it meant it couldn’t be just any chocolate, it had to be a particular type, from a certain place and taste a precise way. I have tasted chocolate from around the world. When I moved country the one thing I missed the most was chocolate. It arrived in suitcases for me from my family and friends when they visited and I would treasure it like it was gold. I’d bring back so much from my trips as if it were going extinct on that side of the world. I judged people on the chocolate they gifted me, I knew their sense of taste just by looking at the box. I was obsessed.
I couldn’t understand folks who didn’t feel the same way about chocolate, as if they were alienated in some way and missing their sense of sensuality with this delicacy.
This affair for chocolate followed me all through my life, I even passed it on to my children!
Although now I have somewhat distanced myself slowly from the prized desert . As the years passed so has my behavior towards this confectionary. My sweet tooth has subsided somewhat and now the rich darkness of bittersweet chocolate has replaced my obsession with the sweet milky silkiness. I’m still picky with what I choose to treat but I have learned to savor slowly each morsel and take it in doses rather than devour and obsess over it. I suppose life does that to you. You learn with age to appreciate the quality rather than quantity, to enjoy the smaller, finer luxuries.
It still brings a big smile to my face, my memory of sitting on the floor in the dark, sheepishly inhaling a small chocolate biscuit. Yet with time you slowly learn that sweet memories we make in some insane way can taste just as good, especially the ones that cannot be replicated.
And so I leave you with a quote I found quite amusing; ‘Nine out of ten people love chocolate, the tenth person always lies!’