When I was a little girl, there was this older gentleman who would give candy to us kids at our church. He was a grandfatherly type and loved kids. He and his wife were long time members of our church. They've passed on now, but today I was thinking of them. Especially the gentleman. I honestly don't know his real name, we just called him The Candy Man.
Every Sunday he would have a pocket full of candy to give to any child that would politely ask for a piece. Sometimes he didn't have candy, he would have breath mints or Halls lozenges. It didn't matter. We all adored him.
He made a pact with me. I was ten and still sacked my thumb quite a bit. He told me that if I would not suck my thumb at church he'd give me a piece of candy. My mom had tried many times to break me of that habit, but it was The Candy Man who got me to stop.
Looking back, in light of the abuse and trauma in my young life, I see now that The Candy Man provided an unconditional love that I was craving. I realize now that a lot of the reason why I struggle socially and emotionally is due to the trauma and abuse. But I can look back and remember The Candy Man, and know that I was loved.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
the candy man
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