Dear Dark Chocolate

Dear Dark Chocolate,

When I was a child, there weren't a lot of sweets at my house. As a child, I amost never drank soda or any sort of artificial juices. I only really had access to candy on Halloween (and the weeks afterward, when I would save my candy for as long as possible - and beyond). Only on special occasions did my brother and I get sugar cereal.

As a result, we had to get clever. And one of those ways we got clever was by creeping into the food pantry and getting our hands on . . . baker's chocolate. I remember many an occasion when I would stand in the darkness of the pantry (door closed to further the clandestine aspects of the activity) gnawing on a large, bitter chunk of baker's chocolate. And then I would wrap it back up and put it in the box where I found it. And to be honest, I don't know if it was really a secret, or the only reason we had baker's chocolate in the house at all was for me (and my brother, I think) to gnaw on in the dark. Because I don't recall any times that my mom baked some sort of chocolate goodness from scratch . . .

But I believe that my childhood experiments led to my current affinity for you, Dark Chocolate. That bitter, gnawingly tasty treat that you are. I enjoy you so much. I do.

But only on special occasions. Because if I were to eat you all the time, I would cease to appreciate you. And neither of us would want that. Oh, no.

So tonight was one of those special occasions. As I plopped myself down on the couch to enjoy some mindless Monday Night Football watching, my thoughts wandered, and I realized that I had a bar of fancy you sitting in my room - totally untouched. And I knew that I must have you. So I willed myself out of my seat, ran downstairs, grabbed the bar, ran back upstairs, sat down, sipped some water, turned on the game, and unwrapped my special treat. And as I gnawed on my bar of you, I smiled.

I was tired today. Really tired. Mentally and physically. I'm still battling sickness and trying to keep it at bay, but it I am definitely NOT 100%. And so today wore me down a bit, and I was looking forward to an evening of nothing. But as I settled in to eat my dinner and enjoy said nothing, fatigue was wearing down my bones. Something needed to happen. Something needed to change for me to get my second mental wind enough to even THINK about writing tonight (or anything else productive).

Enter my fancy bar of you. After eating a few chunks of you, I am more awake. More alert. And - currently - more productive. Not only were you delicious - a perfect blend of sweet and bitter and crunchy and soft - but you have also allowed me to write this letter in the first place. So, oddly enough, eating you has caused me to have the energy and desire to write a letter to you to let you know that I appreciate the energy and desire you gave me to write a letter to you to let you know that I appreciate the energy and desire you gave me to write a letter to you . . . etc. It's like one of those images of a reflection in a mirror of another reflection in a mirror of another reflection in a mirror . . .

Infinitely wonderful, I'd say. Because that's what you are. In small, carefully rationed doses, you bring joy untold. Once every five months, I enjoy a bar of you, and it is so special. It gives me this warm, cozy feeling - similar to sitting in front of a blazing fire in the fireplace with my family on Christmas Eve. Even more similar to standing on a stool in a dark pantry as a child. And that's a very good thing, indeed. Indeed.

So thank you, Dark Chocolate. For enabling me to write this letter to thank you. And for being so perfectly special. Every time I eat you, I feel like I just opened a present on a once-a-year, special day. And I hope that never changes.

Alert and Thinking About Another Chunk,
CVT