Selfish

On my way to the rest of my life, I bite down on my candy bar. Dad told me brain needs sugar, and I certainly need a placebo.

Every homework handed in on time, every word carefully memorized, every thought ever silenced, every project ever made has lead me to this point. To this final test. To the end of my childhood.

Dressed in layers of rags sitting on the cold pavement, she draws my attention. She’s asking for money. I look away.
“At least give me the candy.”, I hear her murmur followed by an automatic: “God bless you child.”.

My neck stiffens and I speed up.

I wanted to stop.

Hiding from her gaze behind that first corner, I fail to swallow the chocolate-coated nougat. It’s glued to the back of my throat.

But I’m running out of time.

She’s hungry.

I need this candy.

She’s hungry.

I’ll come back in two hours.

She’s hungry.

I have everything and she’s hungry…

With a larger chocolate bar, a sandwich and a bag of chips, I’m hurrying back to her. I’m scared she may have left in my moment of hesitance.

She’s thanking me, praising me as if I’m an angel.
Now I’m finally ashamed. I avoid her eyes forcing a smile, and with it I turn around, leaving as fast as I came.

Somewhere down the road, I realize that in the process of saving my soul, I gave that woman something to eat today. So I forgive myself and look back, hoping to remember what innocence feels like.

She’s quickly distributing my gift around the inside of her sloppily patched up, big, blue bag. I see clearly now, it’s full of food.

And I here thought childhoods end with college entrance exams.