Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory

 A Lovely Place To Be

 Enjoy the little things... for one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things. - Anonymous

How would you like to get a pass that will allow you to get into Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory? Moreso, how would you like to be the recipient of a lifetime supply of chocolates?

Yes! And yes! to that.

That, indeed, would be my lovely place to be - and I know just how to do that.

By perusing the pages of one of my treasure albums.

From one of its pocket pages will first fall out a toothpicked photograph. That of a squiggly, bald, wide-eyed baby boy.

Then, a Golden Ticket.

Mementoes of First Grandson's birthday when he turned one.

I remember.

Willy Wonka was the party theme.

Although we didn't quite re-create a palace made out of chocolate nor serve ice cream that didn't melt in the sun, First Daughter saw to it that there was chocolate galore -  from a three-foot fountain with a crown at the top and stacked tiers over a basin of chocolate fondue in which fresh strawberries could be dipped.

A cake was meticulously decorated by Second Daughter/Godmother Nani with spice drops and dots, and M&Ms were scattered throughout. Trees of Kisses and Hugs lined level and undulating surfaces to emulate a Wonka-ish wonderland of magic and whimsy.

Lolo had obliged to be the colorfully-dressed, small, spritely Willie Wonka. I may have worn wide slacks to mimic being a teeny Oompa-Loompa.

I still pull out my Golden Ticket from time to time to recreate that especial time in that lovely place.

A moment that has become a memory.

A memory that has become my treasure.

Madeleine And Tea At Combray

A Lovely Place To Be

Within the pages of my favorite books and treasure albums is a profusion of lovely places to be.

That's where I'd like to take you in this series.

*****

First, Combray. 

The fictional town created by Proust in Remembrance of Things Past.

It is here where the first scenes of the novel take place.

And suddenly the memory returns. The taste was that of the little crumb of madeleine which in Sunday mornings at Combray... when I went to say good day to her in her bedroom, my aunt Leonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of real or of lime-flower tea.

I so love this passage because of the exquisite connection of flavor and memory it explores.

... No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate than a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place.

I was obsessed. I'd actually searched and found madeleines (at Trader Joe's, if you're curious and/or interested).

I wanted Combray.

Even now, when things are broken and scattered, I like to think that I can nibble on this delicate scallop-shaped spongy French tea cake, as I sip lemon-flavored tea.  

And the smell and taste of things that had remained poised a long time, like souls, will be ready to remind me, waiting and hoping for their moment.