Life Is Like A Box Of Chocolates

Life is like a box of chocolates.

Most of us remember that iconic line from the 1994 movie, Forrest Gump (if it is not familiar, you are probably very young - go watch the movie!).

And although the movie came out over 30 years ago, I can remember vividly the scene where Forrest is sitting on a park bench with a box of chocolates in his lap. After offering a chocolate to a stranger sitting next to him, he mutters,

“My mama always says, ‘Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get’”.

And of course, his mama was right (mamas usually are). Life is full of surprises and uncertainties - you never know what will happen next.

But I would like to offer a different perspective - or maybe just a different story - about my relationship with a box of chocolates, and the wisdom I have gained along the way.

You may question the ability to have a relationship with an inanimate object, but I can assure you that after many years of receiving a five pound box of See’s Chocolates for Christmas, an annual gift from a friend (thank you, Brad!), it is easy to form a connection.

Now, five pounds of chocolate is a lot of chocolate (!), and the weight of that box rests beneath our tree until Christmas morning, when it is opened and becomes fair game.

And unlike Forrest’s box of mystery chocolates, over the years we have become so familiar with the contents of the box that each of us has our favorites.

And when there are known quantities and preferences in a box of chocolates, they are the first to go.

With this gift, there is no delayed gratification, no niceties. No empathetic behavior.

“I will leave the coveted salted caramel for someone else,” has never been said. That is simply not how it goes down in our family.

First come, first serve. You snooze, you lose. Winner takes all.

And while there may be a competitive spirit to the process, I like to think that we have raised our children to go after what they want in life, and chocolate is no exception.

Personally, I look forward to eating a chocolate from the box every night after dinner. Sometimes, though, the one that I have been craving has been stealthily snatched up during the day. The early bird does indeed get the worm.

But with the first-round picks devoured, we move on to the next round. And this is where it gets interesting.

Not unlike the NFL draft, the next round may actually be unpredictably extraordinary, as less is expected (though the most valuable picks are often in the second or later rounds). Even Patrick Mahomes was the 389th rated player in the country coming out of high school, and we all know where he is today.

So, with that in mind, the next succession of choices - underrated and undervalued - may just deliver a surprisingly great punch.

And that is to say that sometimes Plan B in life works out better than Plan A, or what you think you want turns out to be not as wonderful as what you get.

Or rather, in round two, you find that the previously overlooked vanilla buttercream outshines your perennial favorite.

So, even with the See’s elite depleted, we persevere and stay open to a potentially wonderful new experience.

But here we are in February, and we have finally made it to the bottom of the box.

The chocolates have been picked over and a few are left with the nibble marks of rejection; one might consider it the dregs (but, realistically, there are no dregs in a See’s box). 

It’s time to savor our gift, and in that comes the lesson of the remains.

Back when the box was full, we didn’t take the time to cherish and treasure; it felt like the chocolates would last forever. Unfortunately, nothing does, so we eat more delicately – slowly, and with more enjoyment.

And that is true in life, too. 

When we near the end of a happy experience - a wonderful vacation, four years in college (longer for some of us…), a sunset, a visit from an old friend, deep August days, and even those later years of life - we stop and pause and reflect.

We linger - trying to extend the feeling, knowing that the finale is in sight.

We hold on, and because we are insanely present, mindful, and focused on the one task, we get more out of it.

The experience is more fulfilling, more profound (or as profound as a box of chocolates can be).

Yes, life can be irrefutably like a box of chocolates. And as today is the holiday that is often feted with just that, I wish you a Valentine’s Day full of love, the fortitude to go for it, the openness for an unexpected win, and the peace that comes with savoring the moment for as long as the box will last.