Apparently, It Was Never Just About the Candy

By Lisa R. Conner

I have a thing.

Actually, let’s be honest.
I have several versions of the same thing.

I leave the protective film on devices and appliances for far too long.

Phones.
Monitors.
Refrigerators.

Anything new and shiny that life might damage if I enjoy it too aggressively.

I like to keep things nice.

Which is funny, because what usually happens is that I end up living with the ugly wrapper instead of the actual thing.

Apparently, this is not just a household quirk.
Apparently, it is a personality pattern.

When I was a kid, getting candy was a big deal. My siblings would eat theirs right away. I saved mine. Not for an hour. Not for later that night. For as long as I could. Over time, those little pieces of saved candy from our allowance runs to the fishing tackle store turned into a real stash. By the time I was eleven, I had candy that had lasted more than a year, and I was weirdly proud of it. Like a tiny squirrel with unresolved emotional issues.

One day, while I was at school, my two-year-old cousin found the stash and had the time of her little life.

That was the end of that era.

When I was even younger, going out for food was such a treat that one time I got McDonald’s fries and saved most of them for the next day.

Why?

Because I wanted the joy to last.

Cold fries.
On purpose.
Just to extend the pleasure.

Apparently, “save the best for last” was never just about the candy.

Or the fries.

Or the wrapper on the monitor.

It probably also explains why I can’t write in books or fold the corner of a page. I use a bookmark or a random scrap of paper and write my thoughts somewhere else, because part of me still wants to keep the book untouched for as long as possible.

What?!?

I think some part of me learned early that good things were scarce.
That if something was sweet, beautiful, new, or comforting, I should stretch it out.

Protect it.
Save it.
Preserve it.

Don’t use it up too quickly.
Don’t enjoy it too fully.
Make it last.

As if protecting the thing might protect me from the feeling of it ending.

Which is very tender.

And also a little ridiculous when you find yourself wandering around the house peeling protective coating off appliances like you’re liberating hostages.

So today, I’m laughing at myself a little.

And also wondering where else I still do this.

Where am I saving the good part for later?
Where am I delaying joy?
Where am I keeping the wrapper on something I could actually enjoy now?

Maybe that’s the question.

Not just what am I protecting?
But what am I postponing?

So now I’m curious:

What’s one thing you could enjoy now instead of saving for later?

Living in curiosity,
Lisa

Lisa R. Conner is a writer, coach, REALTOR, and entrepreneur based in Alaska. She is the author of Casa Renae: Outgrowing Your Story & Coming Home to Yourself and writes Fireweed & Flannel as a place for honest reflections on reinvention, courage, identity, grief, real estate, and the wild beauty of becoming.

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