Welcoming Mary Poppins, incarnate.
A gas station beckoned. Not a gas tank refill, however. A different type of fuel was calling my name. My choice of fuel was a feature (and also a serious distraction) at gas stations. Rows, rows, and more rows, of candy. My chosen fuel? À Snickers!
Yes, it’s true, I’m a food snob (with persnickety blood sugar issues) and can go years between ingestions of sugary, but oh-so-nutty and chocolate-y, Snickers bars. Years! And then…and then…this yawning maw of need pops up inside me and I literally watch my car drive itself to any nearby purveyor of Snickers. I certainly don’t discriminate with regard to Snickers’ venues - gas stations, convenience stores, drug stores, wherever. Somehow, though, a gas station seems best. (Maybe because people I know are less likely to see my furtive Snickers buy.)
My guilty Snickers purchase is actually a red herring in this particular situation (albeit an incredibly delicious one.) My internal compass is pointing to the closest gas station, a dead giveaway that a Snickers acquisition has become my lodestar. And I’m off….
Snickers as a red herring? What’s with that? (Oh, sure, tell me you’ve never experienced a Snickers-like yearning during trying times!) My drive toward Snickers intoxication is a function of “there’s a hole inside me and I desperately need to fill it.”
(With Snickers? Unabashedly, yes, Although in a pinch, a Milky Way would probably suffice. No requisite nutty crunchiness, but still chocolate and gooey and terrible for my blood sugar.)
My psychic emptiness? Well, you asked… This Snickers-driven desire to fill my emotional abyss is a result of feeling like an-out-of-control human in a pained and chaotic world. Oh, wait, I bet you already aware of our pervasive Us vs Them dynamic. Sadly, the “Them” in that equation, is almost always painted as a villain.
I’m tired of floating alone in my little dingy. I have a hunger for connecting with the hearts of real live people, minus any of our usual (and divisive) designations of “red or blue?”
And then….
Oh, thank heavens! Disney, come to life. An incarnate version of Mary Poppins appeared! My designated “spoonful of sugar” was in the guise of an eighty-something, genteel, Southern woman dressed in her Sunday best (although it was Saturday), replete with high heels, a sweetly tilting hat, and gloves. I was dressed for a quickie Snickers run, or a down and dirty trip to the recycling center.
My elderly Mary Poppins surrogate turned to me, as I stepped out of the candy-laden gas station, commenting how wonderful it is that we’re both still driving. (My preternatural white hair is a giveaway.) We slid into a sweet conversation about the peccadilloes of aging, truly enjoying making fun of ourselves.
Very different women. Whether red or blue, who cared. We had a wonderful time shooting the breeze. (How does one shoot the breeze, anyway?) I actually felt full without eating my emotional abyss-filler, Snickers.
But, hey, I’m also human and could not let a good Snickers go to waste. Yep, I ate it on the way home. Yummy!
Perfect as always! Thanks, Jan!