Life Is Like a Box of Chocolates

I used to believe Tom Hanks. Or maybe it was Forrest Gump. When he was sharing his mama’s wisdom on life and chocolates from a bus stop bench, he was quite convincing and reassuring. “Life is like a box of chocolates,” he said with a warm southern drawl. “You never know what you’re gonna get.”

This sweet metaphor resonated with my young and dreamy mind. It carried a hint of a promise. If life was a box of chocolates, then somewhere in that box, there was waiting for me a velvety bonbon filled with silky praline, coffee cream, or rich marzipan. That very idea of guaranteed gratification was enough to make me go through my hard toffee days with patience and a Pollyannaish smile.

But now that I have lived my life for over four decades and eaten more than a fair share of chocolates, I knew quite well that not all boxes of chocolates were created equal. In some boxes, every piece was a piece of heaven. In others, chewy, salty caramel was my best bet. With every mediocre box of chocolates came a thought what if I had it all wrong? What if the hope and promise I attached to Forrest Gump’s words were just a result of my naïve mindset? What if my box of chocolates didn’t come from Lindt, Leonidas, or even Wedel? What if my life was just a discounted box of bland and brandless chocolates, without a single piece of gianduja in it?

Yes, what if?

To my own surprise, removing the promise of finding a chocolate-gem in my box of life did not make me sulk. Actually, the thoughts that followed were quite liberating. I could finally stop waiting. Whatever chocolates there were in my box, those were my chocolates to savor, each and every one of them. I could chew on them mindlessly. I could take a bite of each piece and throw the rest away. I could try to trade them with other people, who perhaps got better chocolates, judging by the box. I could pout that my box came from a grocery store not from a fancy chocolatier. Or,

I could enjoy every piece of chocolate like it was the only one in the box, and like my box was the only one in the universe. I could give every chocolate my full attention and taste it with gratitude. Maybe my taste buds could notice something they hadn’t before? Maybe I could actually develop liking for an unlikely filling? Maybe I could even realize that my box of chocolates was not that bad after all?

Maybe it wasn't that bad indeed.