Twizzlers…

Walking into a pizza place can make my nostrils tingle like no other. It’s not the pepperoni, or certainly the spilled beer, or even the butter spilling over the fresh crust. I always can smell the sweet embrace of Twizzlers. Its something fond that brings me back to my childhood.

Saturday night going out for pizza with Grandma & Grandpa. It’s the anticipation of being set free in a fast moving place. As a child with 7 siblings it wasn’t often I got to do want I wanted. Being the youngest for almost 8 years didn’t help. This treasured night where I got to wander was one of great wonder and excitement. I wasn’t there for the pizza. I was there for the ski ball, for the bottomless plastic cup of pepsi, for the chance to climb unto my Grandpas lap and have him pat my back and call me princess. This was what the long week paid off too. I would spend the night running around calling out to my siblings “Come and look at this!” Always ready to run back to the large table to have a bite of the chilled GREASY pizza. Taking unnecessary yet excitement filled trips to the bathroom with my older sisters. Always being to sure to giggle with them in the mirror.

It made me appreciate the unknown life outside. The night always ended the same. One lucky grandchild would get to go with Grandma or Grandpa to pay. That grandchild got the greatest honor of all. They got to reach into the jar that held the true treasure of the night. The Twizzler jar. They count to count out just enough for everyone. This was the best part of the night. It didn’t matter if you were the youngest or the oldest. Who got it pick them up got to hand them out. Carrying the crinkly plastic wrapper in the most careful grip you could muster .Having the smug pleasure of handing them out to the whole group. Knowing you got to choose who had to wait and who was first. Then finally getting to indulge in what you had been handing out for the past ten minutes. (Ten minutes to an 8 year old is an entire lifetime.) Gripping the scalloped edge with your teeth till it tore open. It was always close to your nose. The nose got to taste is before your mouth. It was enticing.

Strawberry Twizzlers… Although not as exciting as they once were still a very fond memory. They remind me of a Grandfather who has been gone for far to long it seems. Someone who I miss more than I’d ever imagine possible. Also of a Grandmother I need to spend more time with. Who I pray knows just how much I love her. I will never see Twizzlers without smiling and feeling a gentle tug on my heart…

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