Easter time reminds me of malt balls. I’m a malt ball connoisseur although I wish I wasn’t. Due to my addictive personality, malt balls are something I can’t seem to stop eating when given the perfect malt ball. Fortunately, the perfect one doesn’t exist, but there is one brand, Brach’s that comes close—and now it only comes out at Easter time. This year I’ve noticed their chocolate isn’t as good. That’s a good thing as it keeps me from eating as many.
I remember getting these in our Easter baskets when we were little. I used to steal them out of Ruthie’s when she wasn’t looking. I’d give her something else. Not that she had a choice in the matter.
When you'd grocery shopped once a week, you’d let Ruthie and I pick out one bag of candy. You’d say, “That has to last a week,” while we shoveled in the candy. We’d keep on eating. Then you’d say, “When it’s gone, it’s gone.” If the bag of candy was malt balls, I’m sure Ruthie didn’t get her fair share and the bag was gone the same day.
Maybe I’m fond of malt balls because it reminds me of you.