“Life is like a box of chocolates.”
If you’re cultured, like me, you heard this phrase for the first time in “Barbie Life in the Dreamhouse” (10:38 of Episode 5, “Best of Ken,” on Netflix) when you were eight years old. True fans require no explanation, but for the woefully uninitiated among us I will provide a brief summary: Ken thinks of thoughtful Valentine’s gifts to give to his girlfriend, Raquelle’s brother Ryan attempts to upstage him with a giant malfunctioning singing card for Barbie, and Ken and Barbie ride happily into the sunset with each other. The message is that small, thoughtful gifts are more impactful than soulless, over-the-top hijinks. Also, human-shaped chocolate statues are not built for hours in the Malibu sun.
If you didn’t share my impeccable taste in TV as a child, you might have heard this phrase in the 1994 film “Forrest Gump,” where the classic adage originated. Still, no matter where you heard it from, there remains a single burning question.
Which box of chocolates?
Is life like a whimsical scarlet box of See’s Candies Sweet Fall Assorted Chocolates, with butterscotch squares and almond caramel? Or is it like the matte elegance of Recchiuti Confections’ Black Box, featuring lemon verbena and piedmont hazelnut? Or is it like the colorful gloss of Stick With Me’s 12-piece bonbon box, with macadamia rice and kalamansi meringue pie?
What about Ghirardelli’s Signature Chocolate Praline Box, available at your local Walmart, or a pricy golden Godiva gift box sold at Macy’s (free shipping by Friday), or a La Maison du Chocolat Insolite Curry selection with a secret blend of “Madras curry spices,” or another of the millions of results that pop up when you search “box of chocolates?”
Is the box adorably heart-shaped, like the one in “Barbie Life in the Dreamhouse?” Is the box a standard white rectangle, like the one in “Forrest Gump?” Is the box not even a box, like a plastic fold-over package of assorted Lindt truffles that requires superhuman patience and some very sharp scissors to open?
Are the chocolates sweet or bitter? Comforting or experimental? Glue-to-your-gums or melt-in-your-mouth?
Esha, you ask me, isn’t that the point? To that I say yes. Life is a simple word for a complicated concept. Everyone gets a different chocolate box. Some people have to work through a bunch of bland, strangely-textured toffees before landing on their favorite dark chocolate caramel, and some people seem to get bite after bite of creamy, aromatic coffee before getting slapped in the face with a dry hunk of coconut.
Sometimes the box doesn’t feel worth the price you pay, whether that’s your mental health, your relationships, your sleep, or literally the $185 that the Richart Initiation box costs. All you have to do—all you can do—is keep going, hoping there’s a piece of passionfruit chocolate at the end of the road.
So, I ask you, isn’t it worth the wait?
