The Light

Of course, it may be my imagination, but the light at the end of the tunnel seems to be burning brighter.

Whether that is my fantasy (or perhaps hope) it is time to discard all pretense and tell the stark truth,

And I confess, I have had addictions.

They didn’t lurk in medicine bottles or cocktail glasses, and they were never classified as illegal. I did not have a supplier, unless Breyers fell into that category.

My addiction was called Butter Pecan and it was readily available. Far too much so for my well being. At the first cloud in the horizon I traveled to the nearest refrigerator and sought the friendly container that always provided comfort.

Obviously, the cold, sweet and crunchy antidote to trauma never solved a problem nor could it provide a solution. Yet it was a crutch emotionally and difficult to analyze until years later.

The addiction remained with me throughout the tumultuous and happy years of pregnancies, broken arms, complicated car pool schedules, college choices, graduations, a few weddings and the inevitable goodbyes.

Perhaps it was the final adieu (the one that could not promise FaceTime visits, phone calls or another whispered “I love you”) that made reality kick in and erase the pretense Butter Pecan could, would or ever helped.

And I suppose I could say I recovered.

Sometimes walking down the frozen food aisle of the local market, I feel a twinge of temptation, but if I move quickly to the produce section and select a ripe red plum, it disappears momentarily.

But never quickly or without pain, and I realize all things will pass as the light grows brighter in the horizon.