One of the best things about working at the same school my boys go to has been our morning walks. Living on campus means we have a short walk, but the jungle canopy filled with birdsong lends a magical air to our mornings. There is usually something interesting to see along the ground or beside the road and Nabih's keen eye is certain to pick it up. For several years he was into rock collecting and would often stop to unearth some hoped for treasure (unfortunately turning out to be a buried bit of glass or scrap of old linoleum as often as a true find.)
Nabih often lets loose casual phrases of observation that strike me as profound statements on the human condition. Children seem to have a way of doing that with ease. By the administration building that we pass everyday, there is a tree caught in a continuous, fast-forward cycle of the seasons. Its leaves bud, grow, turn red and fall to the ground. We usually pass one of the groundskeepers using a rather loud leaf blower to corral them all into neat piles that can be swept away into the forest.
"Have they ever considered it might be prettier with the leaves on the ground?" Nabih inquired one day. I had to agree. The leaves are a startling shade of red and very large and crisp. They make a lovely ground cover, in the poetic sense. Practically, I guess the steps and parking area just before the entrance to the main office of the school looks neater and tidier swept free of leaves- no matter how crisp and colorful they are.
Our short walk is generally filled with Nabih's nonstop talking- commentaries on the latest books he's read, usually involving some sort of Pokemon battles- but frequently I am graced with a gem of inspiration delivered with Nabih's "but, of course" logical attitude. He has a knack for delivering a creative idea or solution to Mohamed and I as if we are little children who should have known better all along. It makes suffering through the Pokemon sagas almost bearable. There's always hope that an invaluable spark of wisdom will grace my morning at any moment.
Our walk home is equally insightful. One day last week there was another momma-child couple walking just behind us. I could hear snippets of their conversation, filled with the question and answer routine of 7 year olds. I remember it fondly. Endless wonderings about the universe, how it works and why. Luckily, by 9, Nabih has begun to suppose his own answers which far exceed anything I could offer.
While I wasn't necessarily listening in on their conversation, little phrases and catch words floated up to us on the breeze. Apparently the boy had been carrying home a candy bar from a class party and it was becoming something of a mess as a result of the Kinshasa heat and his tight grip. Mom clearly had one eye on contamination factor of chocolate smeared hands and was trying to avert a clothing crisis. While he chatted on, musing about the workings of the world, she tried to direct focus to the small melting river in his grasp. She may have started by using a word just above his understanding - which he immediately questioned- and she was talking her way around it, trying to explain while not detracting from the pleasure of the treat.
"It's better if you don't cuddle it....." and the rest floated off on the wind, leaving me with an image of hugging a candy bar while gently rocking it to sleep. I pondered this as Nabih continued his play by play of something fascinating that occurred on the playground. Don't cuddle your chocolate. Surely there was profound wisdom in there.
I adore chocolate. I love to have one candy bar- Dairy Milk Fruit & Nut my current favorite, dark chocolate a very close second- usually acquired during the shopping trip once or twice a month. There is something so satisfying and delicious about indulging in my one little candy bar that makes me feel luxurious and spoiled. I think there are millions who can understand the appeal of a good quality chocolate. It maintains a fascinating place in history as the food of the gods as well as a focus for psychological and scientific studies - what's so appealing about chocolate anyway?
Considering the 'orosensory' pleasure of chocolate, it easily becomes a metaphor for all things sweet and beautiful- the small moments in life we cherish. Those times together that we don't necessarily get every day but wish we could extend. They seem fleeting even as we are in the midst of treasuring the moment. Walks to school, Sunday afternoons at the pool, sun showers and thunderstorms, decorating gingerbread houses and learning to make fried chicken. All examples of ordinary moments savored in the present for their bitter sweetness, because you know one day you'll look back from the future and miss these times.
Trying not to cuddle your chocolate means it's ok to enjoy the moment as it happens- and then let it pass. It doesn't need to be captured on film, stored in digital memory or shared on facebook. It can just be. One moment that you recognize has fulfilled you, made you happier and more appreciative of the world around you. One good moment in life. And then move on. When you try to hug too hard, or hold on too long, inevitably something gets broken. Don't squeeze the kittens.
It's a good lesson as we prepare to leave Kinshasa behind. Whenever I get too sentimental about the boys leaving the only school they've really known, or when I panic just a little at the thought of trying to learn new streets, make new friends, understand new rituals and customs, I try to remember not to cuddle my chocolate. I want leave this part of our lives behind knowing there will always be fond memories, perhaps a chance to return and visit old friends, and a future ahead full of possibilities- perhaps to be sweeter, perhaps to be harder but most definitely to be lived. And savored to the fullest.
An occasional chocolate bar in our new home will surely help with the transition.
