a box of chocolates," said Forrest Gump. "You never know what you're gonna get." Less than a week from my one-year anniversary, and on the brink of a radical career change--from a college professor hoping for a tenure-track job, to an education consultant, rooted in social change in our schools and communities--I have never had a truer moment where I feel exactly where Mr. Gump was coming from.
The metaphor of the "box of chocolates" is that, sometimes, the cheaper chocolates are hit or miss; the more expensive ones have varying degrees of deliciousness. But, then again, I've had the minor misfortune of biting into an expensive piece of chocolate and experiencing a lackluster lingering on my tongue, similar to the irritation of a sting that comes after sipping a steaming cup of spiced tea. And there are golden chocolate nuggets to be found in the cheap boxes, sometimes, too, which means that, while there is a difference between the cheap and expensive chocolates, it is not always the taste. Sometimes, it's just the cost.
The first year of marriage has been sweet to the taste. We have luscious nights and delicious meals; sometimes my husband has steak while I eat shrimp, and sometimes the organic peanut butter and preserves sandwich is the best we've had. We're still engaging each others' differences, and learning how to love each other better. Sometimes, I bite into the chocolate of marriage, and it's gooey caramel and nuts inside. Other times, it's butterscotch, and the sweetness is nearly sickening and I gag. In marriage, the butterscotch moments have been fewer than the caramel and nuts.
