I found an old half eaten pack of caramel M&Ms and proceeded to get in bed with it. I always told my kids to never eat lying down because, Mama Cass was rumored to have died eating a ham sandwich in bed but I laid down and ate them anyway.
Plucking each one up and into my mouth while I read essay after essay on my phone. I’m reading a blog of a woman I met virtually while we were both in South Africa. We posted from the same location and liked each other’s photos and got ourselves connected social media-ly.
Why does reading on a smart phone cause a double chin but not reading a book? I look away from the news of the day, washing my hands from current events, yet my fingers remain sticky from the stale chocolate.
I know I am not grieving like Uvalde, Buffalo, Petito parents. It seems dramatic to stay in a darkened room eating M&Ms because my 14 year old bulldog is in a shallow grave.
Mindlessly fishing into the narrow packet with my pointer and tall finger I come up empty. Had I known it was the last one I would have savored it.
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