Home is where the candy cabinet is
“Guess where we’re going today?” I ask, excitedly, as I greet the kids at daycare.
Usually my kids can guess, “to Grandma and Grandpa’s house!” Then they tell everyone from their classroom to the car where they’re going.
Once a week, we like to go play at my parent’s house. It’s calming and chaotic, at the same time.
I love it there. I grew up there. I haven’t lived there in almost 11 years, yet everything seems like home. The decor is totally different, but the kitchen table is still the same.
And, every time I’m there, instinctively, I reach up, on my tippy toes, to open the cabinet above the pantry and pull down the same basket (at least I think it’s the same basket) that’s been there since I was a child. Silently guessing what kind of candy my dad has in there.
Score! Black jelly beans!
That cabinet makes me happy. I didn’t realize, until today, how I smile every time I reach up there. I’m not sure why my dad kept his candy up there. Maybe it was to keep his five little girls’ fingers out of it. Or, maybe it was more of an out of sight, out of mind thing.
Either way, that cabinet door was opened more than the bathroom door (probably because we never shut it to begin with) and he never said a word about his candy disappearing faster than he knew he could eat it.
I also just realized I don’t have a candy cabinet at my house. Every house needs a candy cabinet. Home is where the candy cabinet is.