Sweet Things

I just watched one of my favorite movies. Chocolat. Mmmmm. Johnny Depp. Mmmmmm. Approximately one hour into the movie, I felt a strange compulsion. I paused the DVD, wandered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. I blinked and stared blindly for a moment at the top shelf. It had been quite dark in the living room and I was looking pretty much directly at the light, you know, the one that magically turns on when you open the door. Hence the blindly blinking part. I reached up and felt around just behind the eggs and produced an oversize Hershey's Symphony Chocolate bar. Mmmm. How could I have forgotten that it was there?!? Nothing subliminal about this movie's message. Enjoy. Embrace. Celebrate. Vianne was a second generation wanderer who found her here. Blessed are all wanderers who can find a place to call home instead of merely making a home wherever they happen to be. Some restless souls never find a place of comfort to stay for long. I come from restless people. Sometimes I'm astonished that I have lived in this house for over twenty-one years. When I moved in, I deduced that I had approximately thirty-two previous addresses. The day we looked at it, the realtor had shown us so many houses. I hadn't been thrilled with any of them. But when I walked into my future living room, I sat down in the middle of the floor on the sculptured brown carpeting and felt instantly at home. Kind of a warm rush and a tingle despite the hideous two-toned paint job on the walls and a previous owner's idea of an attractive rustic shelf just above where I imagined a couch used to be. I enjoyed, embraced, and celebrated the feeling of being at home and knowing that at least for a while, I would be a wanderer no more. If I ever get a chance to wander to the fabled Chocolaterie Maya, I would love to sit down and stare at the spinning tiled plate to see what it shows me. And I'm certain Vianne would offer me a truffle. She would divine instantly that truffles are my favorite. Then I'd buy a bag to take home. Chocolate, like the movie that bears its name, is a sweet, magical thing. Couldn't we all use just a little of that.