This neighborhood has a lot of ethnic stores and various ethnic businesses. Usually, when we go, I pick up a box of Turkish Delight. I love buying imported candy. I tend to prefer it, and it feels special. It feels like an every-once-in-awhile treat that I canít pick up just anywhere.
That was true until recently, anyway. A grocery store has opened near us that has a large ethnic section and they stock Turkish Delight. When I see there, it never occurs to me to buy it. Itís the same candy, in the same box, but itís not from the Turkish store, so it doesnít seem special enough.
At the restaurant, I asked Adam if he wanted to stop by the Turkish store and buy some Turkish Delight. He responded that we can get Turkish Delight from the grocery store now, so why bother? Since thatís obviously true, I agreed. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I still think Turkish Delight from the Turkish store is special, but the grocery store Turkish Delight isnít.
I think it showed on my face because as we were passing the Turkish store, he slowed down and said, ďDo you want to stop?Ē I paused and said, ďI donít know. I canít decide.Ē He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the store, saying, ďIím getting you some Turkish Delight.Ē
After we left the store, he handed the box over, and I said, ďYou know, if I had to choose between a box of chocolates and a box of Turkish Delight, I think Iíd take the Turkish Delight.Ē He stopped in his tracks and said, ďNow, thatís a powerful statement, right there.Ē
|Saturday, Feb. 18, 2012 at 8:30 PM|