Teddy Grahams

During a walk with my dog on the beautiful Wednesday afternoon, I spotted an old friend: the Teddy Graham. It's been years since I've had a Teddy Graham, and the last time I had one was probably from an impostor snack-sized bag rather than the official 10 oz. box. It's been a long time since I've even thought about this companion from my past, but we were reunited on the sidewalk earlier today.

I remember eating Teddy Grahams often. Like other memories, I have only shards and feelings of eating this Nabisco snack rather than an actual chronological memory. I remember eating them after a day at elementary school. I remember eating the legs and arms first. I remember I hated the split-legged Teddy Grahams because the legs would already be broken inside the box. They aren't a particularly good dipping-in-milk cookie since they are so small, but I remember dipping cinnamon Teddy Grahams and my fingertips in milk.

If I had a box of them in front of my right now, I'd probably eat them. So why has it been years since I've eaten a Teddy Graham?

The answer to this question rests deep in the past. It took me some time to realize that my grandparents and mother were the sole purchasers of the Teddy Grahams for my household. My family bought the snack to bring me joy. But why no more Teddy Grahams now? The answer is that my family no longer sees me as a child.

When I sit and think “I'm no longer a child,” it's very strange—hyper-real, so to speak. I know I'm older, but I don't feel more mature. I know I'm smarter, but I don't feel more wise. Inside, I still feel like an immature child worthy of Teddy Grahams. But I know I'm getting older and getting more responsibilities even if my personality doesn't match my age.

My grandma sometimes gives me money when I visit her, but I no longer get Teddy Grahams from her. She tells me to spend the money on practical things.

The outside world sees that I have grown-up. The outside world sees Teddy Grahams as part of my childhood now passed. I could go to the store and buy a 10 oz. box, but what would be the point? Now that I've realized the truth of the Teddy Graham, they won't taste as good anymore. Sure, I can eat a Teddy Graham for nostalgia's sake, but eating the treat will only make me more aware that my childhood is dead.

It's scary to measure one's own mortality in Teddy Grahams. What part of my current life is a "Teddy Graham"? What is something I currently do or eat that, in a few years, will be obsolete? How many more versions of "Teddy Grahams" do I have in my lifetime?

During my walk this afternoon, I stopped and tipped my hat to a piece of childhood dropped by another little boy. I wonder what age he will be when his family stops buying him Teddy Grahams.