Disaster can strike unexpectedly. Much like the gray hair that appears right in your part that wasn’t there 24 hours before, a work day can take a turn for the nasty in a nanosecond. I experienced just such a blow yesterday.
Things were going well. I had just finished a stack of essays, and I reached into my desk drawer for the small, green tin that I reserve just for these awards ceremonies. The tin felt suspiciously light, but it wasn’t until I saw the brassy, bare bottom gleaming back at me that a little piece of me died inside. I rounded the corner and accosted Deidre, who was standing over a computer screen.
“We have a real emergency on our hands.”
“Oh, yeah?” she said, clicking through yearbook pictures of kids tossing around a football. “What’s going on?”
“I’m out of dark chocolate.”
She slowly stood upright and then turned to face me. “I think I’m out, too.”
Sure, as if that meteor hurtling toward Earth wasn’t enough, we now had atom bombs detonating in the backyard. We stood in a moment of silence, blinking at each other as we tried to absorb the horror. I was first to rally.
“One of us should call the National Guard. They probably have no idea what’s going on down here.”
“Just let me think a second.” She began furiously clicking the mouse and closing windows with an alacrity that was bound to shatter their glass. “Shoot! I didn’t mean to do that!”
“Did you lose your information? I shouldn’t have sprung this on you so suddenly.”
“No, it’s my fault. I’m just so flustered in a real chocolate emergency.”
Contrary to popular belief, misery does not love company, so I took off to mourn in peace. Deidre became proactive and started an excavation in her desk. Moments later, she emerged in victory, clutching a luxuriant foil square in her hand. She darted across the hall and caught Peter attacking papers with a yellow highlighter.
“Which way did Traci go?”
He shrugged. “It’s not my day to watch her.”
She came tearing up the hall, yelling my name in case I was brandishing something sharp over a wrist. “Traci! I’ve got one! I found one! Don’t do it! Traci!!”
I exited the faculty lounge, clutching a fistful of the food of choice for those hoping to catch a case of depression: Wheat Thins.
“Here,” Deidre said, placing a square of cocoa gold in my hand. One glance and I knew we could call the Guard and tell them to power down the choppers. The name brand said Ghirardelli and suddenly John 15:13 came to life – “Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down her [chocolate] for a friend.” It was almost too great a gift to accept.
© 2013 – Traci Carver