In Love With ChapStick.

OK — I admit it. I have a slight obsession with ChapStick. I can't pass by a package of ChapStick on the aisle at Target, or the grocery store without throwing it in the basket. I don't even think about it. I left Target tonight with six packages of ChapStick. This obsession is one thing if it's nothing else — a constant. It just makes me feel good ... and happy, too. I feel secure knowing I have 10 billion tubes of the stuff laying around (desk drawers, my nightstand, bathroom cubbies, bathtub ledge, sink, purse(s), backpack, random pockets ... you get the point). Now don't get me wrong, I am loyal to a certain flavor. Isn't everyone? Strawberry does it for me, hands down.

So, where does this love for a tube of moisturizing lip lotion come from? Well, as I was unwrapping my six new tubes of ChapStick, it hit me. My Daddy. That's where my love for the stuff started. It all makes sense now. The reason I can't get enought of it. Why it makes me feel happy. Why the strange urge to grab all the tubes of it off the shelf on aisle three at Target is alright.

Here's the story. It seems that all my favorite memories go back to the sparkling and moonlit slopes of tiny little ski village nestled in the majestic mountains of New Hampshire called Shawnee Peak.

I can distinctly remember Tuesday and Thursday nights when I was about six years old — Daddy and Kiley nights. What did I want to do? Night ski, baby. No questions asked. So, it was a given ... we'd pack up our gear, grab our wool socks, warm hats and colorful scarves and head out to Shawnee Peak. And what was it that Daddy always kept in his pocket no matter what? ChapStick. But not just any kind of ChapStick. The Classic stuff. You know, with the black wrapper. See, to me, whenever I see that particular tube of ChapStick it screams — Daddy, night skiing, beloved memories and lots of love. I looooved using his tube of ChapStick. I don't know if it was just becuase it was my Daddy's and it smelled like him, or just becuase the ChapStick symbolized cherished memories of "Daddy and little girl time" that I can't ever get back.

I like things that are constant. My Daddy is one of those things. Isn't it funny how when we're young and innocent we like knowing that some things are going to be the same no matter what?  I knew every time I jumped in that silver (complete with a blue and thin red pin stripe) Isuzu trooper and started the drive from our blue salt box house in Bar Mills, Maine to the glistening ski runs in New Hampshire that there would always be this —  a steadfast hand to catch me if I fell, an unwavering voice to encourage me when I got frustrated and someone to cheer me on as I conquered any obstacles that stood in my way. Oh, and there would be ChapStick. The Classic kind with the black wrapper.  And all I had to do was reach my hand into Daddy's ski jacket pocket. Kinda like everyday life. Usually all we need is right there — we just have to reach.

So, problem solved. I guess I'm just a Daddy's girl after all. I like it that way. ChapStick and skiing are one of the many loves we share. And like my Daddy, I suspect ChapStick (the strawberry kind) will always be a constant in my life no matter where I'm at in this world.

XO. ki