Payday

Walking past the Payday candy bars, an unexpected flood of memories suddenly overtook my emotions. I quickly sent my stepmother a text asking if Dad could still eat them. He was nearing his 78^th birthday and since I did not live close by, I honestly did not know the answer. To my dismay he couldn’t and had not been able to for at least a year. I wanted to send him a package – a memory gift if you will. Unable to make up my mind on what size, I bought several packages of the two sizes. This is something I rarely do because I do not eat that much candy!

                Growing up we were poor. We always talked of having more money and pay day was the golden day when all would be made right. Maybe kids are not supposed to be that aware of the finances but we were. Quite possibly it was because there were so many things we could not have.

                I still remember with clarity of starting the 9^th grade at my new school in 1978 wearing thick, blue thongs – or flip flops. They were nice enough in the Southern California summer but certainly not for the cooler weather that fall brought on. Of course my classmates made comments that furthered the sting. When my birthday arrived in November I was given a new pair of soft leather shoes with laces. The first week after getting them I rode my bike to school and fell tearing the left shoe. The tear was near the left toes. We could not afford another pair until months later. The only way to hide the tear was to wear extra long pants and even then the tear was not entirely hidden. Absolutely embarrassing for an already sensitive self-esteem!

                So many things had to wait until pay day. My parents would indulge us by purchasing a box of 12 Payday candy bars every now and then – usually on Sunday’s. To us, it was a reminder of good things to come.       As the years moved along, I would buy my parents a box for their birthdays or anniversary. Then I stopped. Life happens.

                The day that I came across those treats my life was hectic. Trying to finish up this and get through that. Time stood still in the far away place I now called home.  I was back in the San Fernando Valley and suddenly 15 years old again. People were bustling around. My son was asking about a particular purchase unaware of my preoccupation. And as if I had just lost my dad, the realization hit with an additional force.  He would never again be able to eat those. I fought back the urge to show any emotion. People were around and it just felt inappropriate.

                Savoring the sweet, salty flavor of those morsels brought comfort to unexpected memories.  I wanted to be close to my dad even though that was not possible as a result of distance – he lived in California and I in Utah. But by eating the candy bar, I, in some way could again.

Kelli  McDonald 3/17/2012

ADDENDUM:
When my dad died, along with an American flag and a bullet because of his military service, we gave him a can of Pepsi, a bag of jelly beans, and a Payday candy bar to enjoy.
September 22, 2013