Fruit Loops

When I was 16 I worked at a Camp as a kitchen aid.

I loved working there. We worked breakfast then took naps. We worked lunch and hung out with whichever counselor was on break or canoed the lake or read or wrote. I couldn’t believe I was earning money for all the time I had to play, relax, and nap.

During that summer a counselor and I biked into town to follow through on an experiment.

“Does each fruit loop actually have its own flavor or are they all the same?”

All of us ate a lot of fruit loops that summer, it was another perk of life as a kitchen aid – easy access to all things food.

We laughed as biked down the road through trees and cabins and sunlight blinking in and out of leafy branches.

It was our first escape from camp. We never felt a need to escape, and yet, freedom always brings an element of excitement.

At the gas station we purchased a large box of fruit loops then met outside and sat on some grassy patch of lawn. We closed our eyes and tasted the sugary cereal. First yellow, then orange, blue, red.

“Well?”

We closed our eyes again.

We weren’t quite certain.

I’m not sure why we felt the need to bike all the way into town to get fruit loops. Maybe we imagined the real thing made the difference in flavor, versus the generic in the kitchen. Or maybe the fruit loops were on lock down, as the head chef sometimes felt a need to do.

Whatever the reason, I am certain the fruit loops tasted better after the bike ride, laughter bubbling beneath our closed eyes.

“I can’t tell?” My friend said.

“They’re different,” I said, “each one has its own scent. I’m sure of it.”

She shrugged. We sat for awhile longer, chatting and laughing, until it was time to head back to Camp.

This morning I woke up early. Our youngest has a nightmare and woke crying and sleep was over for me. After I made my way downstairs I remembered the boys had requested fruit loops.

“We never ever have had them Mom. Please.”

I walked to the cereal cupboard and took the box out, carrying it with me to the couch. As I laid down I grabbed a few and popped them into my mouth.

The memory of my adventures at camp floated toward me as a savored the round sweet fruit loops. I closed my eyes and tried to decipher if each one had its own flavor.

It’s hard to tell, I thought, each one seems to blend into the other.

After a few more I tucked the bag inside the box and closed it up.

Somehow those fruit loops in my memory tasted much better than they do now. They were sweeter and had a semblance of something special.

I smiled.

Or perhaps the laughter, the bike ride, the friendship, the camp…perhaps the experience of it all is what made those fruit loops all that much more sweet.

It’s hard to say for sure. But I have a good guess.