Playing Tootsie

How lovely they looked, setting upon the glass-top counter of our small town’s grain elevator shop; a bouquet of brightly colored wrappers atop white paper sticks. A nickel would buy an hour of utter bliss. Each swipe of the tongue was accompanied by a number as I counted to see just how many it really did take to reach the delicious chewy chocolate center. Smoothing out the wrinkled colorful paper, my eyes scanned for that hidden icon—the majestic Native American wearing his headdress and that glorious star always found right beside him. Finding that elusive star would have me running back to the shop to redeem another hour of delight. I never knew if the shopkeeper actually got paid for those special wrappers. I often wondered if it was something she did just to see us smile.