It was an ordinary summer in 1983, and I was in the backseat as we drove back from my family’s annual beach vacation. And the closer we got to being home, the more anxious I got. I was finally about to find something out:
Had I won that Reese’s Cups frisbee?
See….in the early and mid ’80s, it was common for name brand snack products to have contests and prizes w/ game pieces in every product. The possibilities seemed endless. You could win $5 (the most I ever did), $5000, a stove, a frisbee, and so many other goodies.
I loved that stuff.
And often, you had to get both “halves” of a prize to win it. I knew I’d gotten one half of the frisbee earlier, and I got another frisbee half piece while we were on vacation. But I couldn’t remember if it were the opposite half or not.
That was all that mattered at the moment. Because I didn’t have another care in the world.
Because it was before my hellish teen years. Before I spent my (otherwise great) college years with a pain that I couldn’t shake yet. And before I spent the last almost 30 years and counting dealing with depression.
I was eight. Life was easy and with no worries.
And at this point, it’s hard to fathom how that was ever the case. But it was.
And I still remember it vividly. I was already an antsy enough traveler as it was at that age, but the anticipation of uncovering my possible jackpot of frisbee heaven made those final hours on the road seem even longer.
We finally made it back. Before I did anything else, I ran in the house to check “my” drawer that contained all my irreplaceable valuables. The other frisbee game piece was waiting.
It was the same half.
I wasn’t even that surprised, because I’d had a nagging suspicion the whole time that I hadn’t won it. But still, it was disappointing.
Despite this unthinkable life setback, the next day still came. And I woke up ready for it. Happy, emotionally healthy, and ready to move on.
Something that I haven’t felt for almost 40 years now.