I miss orange flavored Bubblicious.
Even though I had barely reached the age of five, I can still recall the first time I ever tried that sweet citrus flavored bubblegum, and the events of that entire morning still remain in my memory in vivid detail as if it were only yesterday.
I remember sitting in the living room inside the house of a family friend, watching my Saturday morning cartoons as I ate my breakfast, when the images of cowboys appeared on the screen. Just another wacky advertisement aiming kids at some sort of sugary treat, a common sight during the early weekend hours of television.
But what was it this time? Orange flavored bubblegum? Not my usual, but it sounded like something I had to try.
I remember walking to the local convenient store just down the street, the scent of pine trees filling the air as my tiny feet trotted through the dirt and foliage. Despite having the appearance of a rustic trading post, the small establishment still provided the current flavors of modern culture, including the bubblegum that I had set out to experience.
I remember standing beside a large tree, the sound of acorns crunching below my feet as I unwrapped that tiny wrapper that held the morsel I was about to enjoy, followed by a sweet citrus scent like I had never smelled before.
I remember that flavor, a perfect blend of tart orange and sugary sweetness.
I loved orange flavored Bubblicious.
But they just don’t make it anymore.
The Saturday morning cartoons are also gone, along with their wacky bubblegum peddling cowboys. Replaced long ago by the images of false realities constructed by Hollywood, consistent terror threats from those who oppose our values and beliefs, and the constant reminder of how desperate we are for water as we pray for the next chance of substantial rainfall.
I’ve walked to the local 7-Eleven in hopes that the memorable treat inside an orange wrapper may once again appear on the shelves. But again I leave feeling discouraged, walking home through streets littered with broken glass and hypodermic needles, learning later that I had once again missed an armed robbery at that same store just moments after my departure.
Standing in my side yard, I look up at the power lines crossing overhead and recall that morning and the events that transpired. As sirens wail in the distance, I stand there and try to remember that flavor, a taste of something gone so long ago.
I miss orange flavored Bubblicious.