I remember when I was three years old. I would watch out the window waiting to see my dad walking home from work at Union Pacific Railroad. We had a ritual he and I. He would bring home a Hersey bar and we would sit down to my little play table and break the Hersey into sections. He would put some on my little play plate and then some on his little play plate...and everything was right with the world.
Hersey bars have seen me through some pretty tough times in my life. They are my comfort food. Nothing is quite as good as a Herseys with Almonds melted in the microwave and eaten with a spoon.
There was one time however that the Hersey bar failed to heal what made me hurt. I had just had an emergency hysterectomy and had returned home with my hormones on a rampage. Needless to say, with them in control......I was not. I wrote my last will and testament on the inside of a Hersey's wrapper and taped it to the fridge. I then proceeded to get in the car and drive without telling any of my family where I was going (I didn't know myself.) They found my chocolate smelling "Will" and became concerned. I don't know if they were concerned about my being gone or that I had written a will on a Hersey's wrapper. Which ever, I figured it was my time to put them through a little of the "hell" they had put me through during the years.....so for about two hours I got my revenge. I returned home, removed my will and ate another Hersey's.