The box of candy
When I was young, left in the car with my dad,
I cried and shouted and stayed in tears
Until my mom came back. Then he would
Chuckle and search beside his seat
to find anything that would calm me down.
He handed me candy
out of the gold, round box. The spicy flavor
always made me throw an even bigger tantrum.
As I shout for something sweet, he responds
bitterly that he doesn’t like sweet candy.
Now, when I ride in my dad’s car,
I can smell the same cologne,
And see the same strong hand turning the handle.
The focused squint that appears when he drives,
and the occasional glances to check if I’m okay.
As I fidget in the car, I open the glovebox
to find the same container of candy, his car keys,
and a random pack of gummies by its side.
I open the pack, put the sweets in my mouth, and say
“thank you dad”.
Karen Lee: “I am a rising eighth-grader attending Chadwick International in Seoul, South Korea. Besides writing, my other interest is drawing. I am currently preparing my writing portfolio and was recently accepted to Juniper's Young Writers Program.”