You're My Cocoa

It might be a winter scarf, or a pair of glasses, or a handwritten card  that brings your memories flooding back. In my case it was a can of Hershey's cocoa. It's the day before Thanksgiving, and I'm picking up a few additional items, and I see this damn can of cocoa staring at me from a grocery store shelf... and all I can think of is my mother, who has been gone almost three years now. Why cocoa? At first I didn't make the connection, but all of a sudden I remembered a Christmas many moons ago, when my mother wrapped up a can of cocoa each for me and my three sisters, with one of her favorite dessert recipes. At the time we thought it was silly - a mom thing - and I'm sure we also felt gypped out of one of our "real" presents. Today, I see the love behind it, the desire to give something she did well (baking) to her girls. Today, it seems that can of cocoa held all kinds of messages and affection. And today, the day before we will gather without her (again), I'm thankful to have had a mom who was a little quirky and offbeat, but also generous and funny and sweet and unpredictably delightful.

It makes me think of all the other people in my life, here on earth or peacefully departed, who have helped shape my intellect and heart, and made me laugh or made me funnier; who have given me such gifts of kindness and knowledge and indescribable kinship. The longer I live, the more magical it is to have had a lifetime of such riches. So if you're reading this, you're in my life for a reason, and there's something you should know: you, too, are my cocoa.