On my way home from work, yesterday, I impulsively decided to stop by an Asian supermarket because I was craving snow crackers. Sadly, I couldn't find any, but my disappointment was overshadowed by the warm nostalgia that I felt when I found these Kopi coffee candies beside the cash register.They aren't the best candies in the world, but I love them because they instantly make me think about Saturday mornings spent at the fish market with my mom and brother. My mom would pack these coffee candies in her purse and would let us have some when we were good. We were never allowed to have too many because the coffee made us hyper, but I'd always sneak them out of her bag while she wasn't looking. Or maybe she knew and didn't mind.
As my mom held our little hands while we made our way through the crowds in Chinatown, my brother and I would cover our noses because the smell was too much for us to handle- fresh fish intertwined with the muskiness of Chinese medicines and spices.
I hated it, then. The smell, the crowds, waking up early.
I would give anything to go back, now.
