The worst feeling.

I've always thought that the photos in Robert Frank's 'The Americans' were incredible representations of raw human emotion. Visualizations of happiness, sorrow, wonder, hate, hopelessness...Each page a deep window into the human soul.

I guess you could say that this photo is a pretty good representation of one of my least favorite feelings in the world... A gumless depression. Allow me to explain:

Each time my parents go down to the States, they ask me if they should bring me anything from across the border. Each time, I have one request and one request only: Fruit Stripe gum. Both the green (chewing) and the pink (bubble) kinds. Many, many packages.
You see, Fruit Stripe gum is very, very difficult to obtain in Canada, and I do believe that up to 50% of my soul is built of the stuff.

My heart leaps into my throat when they hand me a heavy paper bag upon their return.
I open the top of the bag and inhale the sweet air... I would imagine this is what heaven must smell like.
I eat them in rhythmic order, the pink, green, red flavors before the orange, yellow, blue, and purple flavors. One stick at a time, evenly pulling them from the paper sleeves so that the packages never have a surplus of a certain flavor.
I plaster my arms in the fake tattoos that come on the wrappers. It is a rare treat to find one that hasn't been cut in half during the manufacturing process, and I keep a small collection of wacky zebras surfing, skateboarding, dunking basketballs long after the gum is gone.
With obsessive vigor, I chew and chew until eventually, there is only one stick of each flavor left.
I have heard stories of parents being stuck in some sort of emergency situation where they must choose between their children, and I guess that this is what I feel when I get to this point. The joy is most certainly over. As each piece disappears, a piece of me dies.
For months after the gum is gone, I will occasionally pull out one of the saved wrappers and adorn my hand with a zebra playing t-ball, just for the memories. I always thought that it was just a sugar-comedown, but I now believe that the ending of my hard-to-obtain gum sends me into some sort of true gumless depression (spell check keeps telling me that 'gumless' is not a real word).

I guess what I am trying to say is- can anyone hook me up with more Fruit Stripe? Help a brother out? I've got the shakes, man.

All my love (even if you don't send me the gum),
~sarah p.

p.s. The little zebra on the package is called 'Yipes'. If that ain't cute, I don't know what is.