The Sweetest Berries

I didn’t know they made them anymore, these candies my daughter gave me, saying she didn’t want them, they were too real. I’ve been trying, failing to put together in my mind how I know them, why I have such an acute sense memory of this particular candy madeleine… red raspberries, black blackberries, chewy and oh so sweet and yes, somehow, very very real. I remember an old world that doesn’t exist anymore, something about being little, and an old woman who lived next door beckoning me over to give me these berry candies in a white handkerchief. A white handkerchief? That doesn’t make sense. Anyway, I’m going to stop troubling over it, and shelve them back with the Sens Sens and violet drops and turkish taffy, the other staples of that antique child world.

But first I’m going to eat them all, too real or not.


Filed under Jean Zimmerman

2 responses to “The Sweetest Berries

  1. Yes, my grandpa used to give me those. I was fascinated by them. I think I thought they were… too real.

  2. Nora Balaban

    And how bout those marble pebble candies? My parents used to bring them back from New England when they went away without us. Those candies made it worth it, being left alone for the weekend.

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