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   Chocolate Necessities

Call me crazy, but I don’t like chocolate. Never have, even as a little girl. I know I’m supposed to; how can I call myself a woman if I don’t splurge on a chunk of Ghirardelli’s dark when my hormones are raging? How can I pass by the See’s booth on my way through the mall without veering in for a little pick-me-up?...but then I saw the movie Chocolat.
     Chocolat was one of those movies I decided to watch after I’d seen the trailer. I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but Johnny Depp was in it so how could I go wrong? Juliette Binoche wore a pretty dress and high heels, and she looked on the outside exactly how I felt on the inside so I knew she had something to teach me about myself. I was going to be glad I went.
And I went, and that’s exactly what happened. I emerged from the theater deliriously happy. I was in love with chocolate—and myself. I wanted to wear silk scarves in my hair and hug strangers, and meddle in everyone’s business and inspire them to be greater than they were. I wanted conservative men to fall into confusion when I was around. I wanted a wild young lover and I wanted to weigh a hundred and fifteen pounds soaking wet and eat truffles without consequence. 
The movie made me crave a bowl of the wonderful remedy our family uses as a curative for the blues. We call it “runny.” Runny is hot-fudge sauce that we cook up whenever one of us comes home with a problem of the heart. Tea and runny. My Great-aunt Josephine started the tradition. Whenever one of her daughters had a problem with a man or his money, she would make a batch of runny in her heavy steel kettle. Depending on how many sisters and daughters crowded around the table, she would spoon the batch into cereal bowls or saucers. When I was eleven I was invited to sit at the table and eat mine with a teaspoon along with the women. 
After seeing Chocolat I rushed home and boiled up a batch of runny. And fanaticized about a wild young pirate licking it off my belly...
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