Toffifate

The Walgreen's next to the Wild Oats on Speedway still sells the fifteen pack of Toffifay. And they're freshness dated, which means the three candies I just ate -- restraint, however difficult, is paramount -- were delicious in a way that makes me nostalgic for those evenings in Germany when, after taking my adult education Spanish class in Achim, I would take the train into Bremen, purchase a fifteen pack, and then board another train on the mainline to Hannover, consuming it entirely by the time I reached my stop at Sagehorn.

The rush I got from that much sugar sustained me during the inevitable wait to be picked up by my host sister or mother or, when I was feeling adventurous, for a passing motorist to acknowledge my outstretched thumb. I miss the vertigo of my Bundesbahn solitude. Sitting here in my office may be lonely, but the sense of freedom I had back then is nowhere to be found.