Three Pieces of Chocolate

It sure took a long time, but finally at the end of August, 2010, we decided to build our house west of Snowflake. Personally, I'd known it was what we should do for years, but things kept getting in the way. First, we had to sell the house in Gilbert so we'd have some money. Then dad got sick and died, and we needed to live with mom. After she passed away I thought we'd just do it, but Moe was more cautious than me. Everyone advised us to buy, not build, since there were tons of foreclosed houses on the market and home values were still falling, but in my heart I knew we were supposed to build our dream house. Finally, after lots of study and looking at other houses, Moe came to the same conclusion.

We signed a contract with our builder on August 16^th. He said it would take three-and-a-half months to build, but that didn't take into account how long it took to get financing. We didn't actually break ground until the end of January, 2011. In the meantime, Moe built himself a large metal shop to keep all his tools and equipment in, I kept digging my pond, and we dreamed.

That was an interesting fall. For the first time in my life I had no parents to talk to, and I missed them, especially mom. One Sunday, Kami decided to wear mother's Swedish sweater to church. It was one of a few or her clothes that I couldn't part with, and Kami found it hanging in my closet while looking for something warm to wear.

“Mom,” she whispered as we sat in the chapel, waiting for church to start. “Look what I found.” She held out her hand to me, and showed me a crumpled Kleenex and three pieces of chocolate.

The Kleenex was typical mom, she always had a fresh one waiting in her pocket; but I also remembered her putting the pieces of chocolate there, months earlier. One day when she first started getting sick to her stomach we'd been in the kitchen. Mom had half of a Hershey's Chocolate Bar in her hand. She looked at it for awhile, then said, “Maybe it's the chocolate that's making me sick.”

I remembered her putting the uneaten pieces in her pocket, and I don't think she ever wore that sweater again.

“I bet the candy is still good,” I whispered in Kami's ear, knowing grandma would be happy to know she'd given Kami a little treat that Sunday.

“I'm going to keep the Kleenex,” Kami whispered back, and I nodded. I knew wearing mom's sweater brought her comfort, and putting her hand in the pocket and holding onto the Kleenex would, for just a second, be like getting to hold her grandma's hand one more time.

I hugged Kami, and smiled, but there were tears behind my eyes that Sunday.