Remnants of Truth from the Cookie Jar

Standing in the doorway

not making a sound,

I watch her.

Some encounters

you just happen upon.

Unable to help myself

I choose to wait and observe

this priceless vision,

wishing I had a camera.

On tippy-toes,

and with the slightest effort,

a hand disappears.

In this very same pose,

with anticipation of capture,

she looks to the left

and then to the right.

Faint sounds of a hand

rummaging cautiously

and finding treasure.

Out it comes.

Evidence vanishing instantly

while the lid slides quietly

back on the jar.

Stifling giggles,

I clear my throat and enter,

stare down into deep blue eyes,

and witness a tiny mouth tightly shut

with just the slightest remnants

of the truth about her chin.

I turn my back and grin

when I hear the quick crunching.

Whirling around

just as she is about to escape

I say, "Would you like a cookie?"

She turns, surprised,

and with a guilty look,

she nods slowly.

Ignoring the crumbs

and her obvious uneasiness,

I reach into the cookie jar

and give her a smile

as I hand her the treat.

I watch her as she takes the first bite.

She eats this one more slowly.

Remorsefully.

"You know what's true?" I ask,

crunching and enjoying my own cookie immensely.

She carefully shakes her head, side-to-side,

waiting for the answer.

Big blue eyes blinking
as she swallows hard on the last bite.

Ruffling her hair

and brushing crumbs off her chin

I feel the slightest twinge and remember.

So with compassion for the captured

and, with a wink of understanding,

I make my statement.

"I bet this one doesn't taste as good as the first one."

From Cotton Candy and Lemon Drops 2001