"Grandmother, Grandmother! Please tell us again what it was like," begging three children in unison, "Grandmama please, oh pretty please." They circle around an old woman who appearance wise looks to be in her late sixties. Prancing around and jumping everywhere they turn their chaotic attention towards the old maid rocking peacefully on the rocking chair. She is the only one who can put a stop to the children's rowdy routine.
Silence surrounds the woman as she gazes at the youngsters while they fidget on their beds trying to find a comfortable position. Her hair as gray as the silver moonlight seeping through the window gracefully falls over her shoulders as she turns toward the children. Kind eyes fall upon her grandchildren's' eager faces, each longing to hear the enchanting story of Mr. Willy Wonka and his majestic chocolate factory. The wrinkles that have grown over time lift as a nostalgic expression befalls her ghostly face. And the story begins…
I stood in front of the gray lifeless infrastructure with only the constant smoke and the presence of an unavoidable chocolate aroma that reminded the outside world there was life within these bland walls. My father, your great grandfather, positioned himself behind me because he wanted to keep an eye on me after all I was the sole heir to the Salt factory. Another reason was they would not let me in, you must remember I was 12 then, so in order to be granted entrance I needed a chaperone.
It happened years ago, but I still remember the main hall. It was akin to entering another world consisting solely of candy and sweets but back then I was only impressed that everything was edible – children, when I mean everything I literally mean everything. The mix of odors was heavenly and already made my mouth water to taste every sugar delight I could get my hands on.
Jessica, did you know there are lollipops that grow on trees? Well there are. Until now I do not know the name or kind of lollipop I tried but no word exists in the English language that can describe the feel and the explosion of flavor in that just one candy. The candy was round, smooth and tough but not hard enough to crack your teeth if you took a bite. This sweet had various colors each with its own taste. I remember attempting to try each color but could not, they were too compact but it did not matter because the clash of all the flavor bursts was unimaginable. Eating it while inhaling all the other aromas was utopia. Never have I felt the same way about eating a lollipop again; it was as if my taste buds were exposed to grand flavor that no food can ever impress my expectations.
"Henry, Jessica, James you better be in bed in fifteen minutes," calls their mother," and please don't even consider that because Grandma Veruca is visiting gives you the excuse to sleep late." The three children grudgingly get into bed while grumbling about never having enough time to hear the whole story. Grandma, who has been watching her grandchildren's scene, chuckles and kisses them goodnight. Yes, it was a trip everyone one desires to hear and secretly yearns for, it's the trip to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.