Door to Door

What I looked like

back then:

Blue plaid jumper

White cotton shirt

Peter Pan collar

Pink sweatpants

worn underneath the jumper

when it was cold;

shorts when it was warm.

White sneakers grayed

and scuffed from outdoor play,

purchased on sale

from Payless Shoe Source.

Strawberry blonde hair

in a short bob

Plastic blue-framed glasses

Gap-toothed smile

I wanted to be outside,

riding on the back of 

Mitch’s black Space Invaders bike

or run around the vacant lot,

pretending I had a horse

or pretending I was a horse,

but instead it was candy-selling season.

The cool basement of the convent

had a rich chocolate smell.

Every student was given three boxes

of chocolate bars to sell:

Almonds, krispies, and,

best of all,

caramel.

When you would bite into one,

the caramel would ooze out of the bar

onto your hands,

and the piece in your mouth

would drip caramel onto your chin.

I frequently dipped into my own stock.

When you sold all the candy you were given,

you could get more.

The highest sellers were entered into a drawing

for either a Nintendo Game Boy

or a $75 savings bond

Some students certainly

used their parents’ workplaces

as the source of their record-breaking sales.

My mom was a stay-at-home mom

with no time for fundraising nonsense.

I had to go door to door.

It was the worst thing in the world.

Everyone was constantly warning us

about talking to strangers

and the movie Adam

and the terrible things that happened to him.

Seemed kind of counterproductive then

to force us to go to strangers’ homes

and offer them candy,

but it was for a good cause,

and it was character-building.

I would ring the illuminated doorbells

of the neighbors I didn’t know

and stare at my shoes on their doorstep,

half-hoping that I could make a sale,

half-hoping that no one would be home.

The person who opened the door

was always an elderly man,

who eyed me with suspicion.

“Hello, would you like to buy

some candy for St. Mary School?”

I asked with a tortured expression.

“No,” the old man would reply

and close the door firmly behind him.

I did this until the sun started to set,

and it was time for dinner.