Manna from Heaven

I spend most of the day trying to write. Exhaustive renovation work is taking place on the houses on either side of mine and the noise is unbearable. I behave like a crazy woman, rushing round the house swearing, slamming all the windows shut and playing the Max Bruch violin concerto at full volume on the CD player in my studio.

In the late afternoon, I walk up to the supermarket for my weekly purchases. As I walk into the store, the shouts and cries of a gang of toddlers assail me, obviously on a group shopping expedition with their mothers. The children are demanding chocolate milk with raucous repetition and flinging bananas and bamba from their carts. One vomits in front of me, barely missing my shoe. At that moment a crowd of teenagers runs through the aisles and jostles me. My nerves are frazzled to breaking point. I feel I am going to scream.

I desperately need a fix and reckon chocolate might do the trick. Abandoning my cart, I almost run to the sweets section, knowing exactly what I crave. I have a penchant for those little white and milk chocolate balls with a crispy filling. I pick up a packet, then indecisive, replace it, deeming it inappropriate to go to the cashier with an open or empty wrapping.

Heart pounding, I pick up the weekly pack of hard candies, which are ruining my teeth. Below the candies, on a shelf, alone, sits a packet of my favourite chocolates, slit down the side, with the small white and milk chocolate balls streaming out. I grab a handful of the little sweets and greedily crunch them while looking for my cart. Making repeated forays to the shelf, I snatch refills, my nerves quieting.

David would surely have a rational explanation. He would say it was hindsight. When I saw the open packet I decided that was what I wanted. Or that I myself opened the packet because I was in such a state. But I know that I have been shown yet another wonder. The angels are watching over me and offer me manna from heaven when I am in need.