Four days till National Candy Corn Day and five days till Halloween as of today.
I mentioned in a prior blog how I enjoy this season of the year; also mentioned how I quietly sit and consume twenty pieces of candy corn during October. I remember how intrigued I was as a three year old with candy corn. It resembled the chicken feed my grandfather fed to his chickens. I remember my first encounter with this sugary confectionary treat. My Uncle Harold brought a bag to me one Sunday. At the time I lived with my maternal grandparents and Aunt Julia. My grandmother took the bag from me and told me I could have some later in the week; she put it away where she thought I would not see it. After all ‘out of sight out of mind’. A few days later as I helped my grandfather throw chicken feed around, I remember the bag of candy. I asked my grandmother and reluctantly she gave me some in a bowl after my lunch. I sat on the couch with my cat, Fluffy. Picking up one piece of the candy I looked it over; the white, yellow and orange colors were the prettiest I had ever seen together. I put the first piece in my mouth and thought I never tasted anything so delicious. It was then, it dawned on me; this looks like candy chicken feed. I decided that if chickens can eat their feed off the ground, I could eat my candy corn the same way. I took the bowl of candy and scattered it on the floor. Getting down on all fours, I began to eat the candy from the floor. Fluffy got down on the floor also and began to lick the pieces of the candy. My aunt walked into the room, saw what I was doing and began to laugh. Grandma walked in but instead of laughing, she yelled that I was eating off the floor and that the cat was licking the candy pieces. I looked at her and told her that I was playing chicken. She then began to chuckle.
This event was told to me by my aunt when I was a teenager. I found it to be a fond memory of my childhood; a happy memory I did not want to forget. Each year, since I heard the story, I would purchase a bag of candy corn; count out thirty pieces (as an adult it became twenty); I would sit quietly, eat one piece at a time as I let my mind wander with pleasant memories of my grandmother and my aunt.
Some say that don’t like candy corn; they find it to be terrible tasting or just plain gross; but to me, it is a connection even to this day of two people who cared for me for five years of my life. On October 30th, I will put twenty pieces of the confectionary into a little dish, sit quietly and eat one piece at a time while I reflect on that day when I was three years old. As I think about it right now, I may include thoughts of the person who gave me my first bag of that candy, my uncle.
Until next time….enjoy Candy Corn day. Enjoy the piece following on this time of year.
THE STORY
©Scottie-ann Murphy
The old house looked deserted
Leaves covered the lawn
A carpet of red, orange, gold and brown
Limbs from the trees cast eerie shadows on the sidewalk
The full moon the only light shows me the way
Cautiously I walk up the weather worn steps
My hand holding tightly to the banister
A black cat rests motionless on an old metal glider
It lets out a loud ‘meow’ as I step up to the porch.
Jumping down from where it sits….the feline saunters over to me
Rubs against my leg….then runs off into the night
I debate whether I should knock on the door
My heart races….I can hear the thumping of each beat
I stand staring at the door wondering what to do
Taking a deep breath I knock….anticipate if anyone will answer
Wild thoughts spin through my mind on what or who may lurk inside
Will my friends read my text message on where I had gone
And what I planned to do…..will they come looking for me?
Perhaps I should not have taken the dare to come alone
Wondering and waiting…..i feel apprehensive
Seems like I have been standing here for hours….not minutes
The door suddenly opens….a tall menacing figure stands at the threshold
“Welcome, we’ve been waiting for you”, the voice deep and gravely
He moves to one side…. motions me to come inside
I slowly step into the foyer…..the house is dark....no sounds can be heard
A chill runs down my spine….I try not to show fear….i bite my lower lip
There is no turning back…..or is there?
A question pops into my brain…..did I make a rash decision
Is the story about this strange house and its’ mysterious inhabitants
Worth the price the newspaper will pay? I ponder the answer…..
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