When I was younger, around age five, my parents left for a week on a scuba diving trip. As my grandparents lived not too far away in Arkansas, they dropped my sister and I there for the week they were gone. I was very close with my parents, and am still, and as a totally dependent young kid, the idea of being without them for a week seemed unbearable. Six days. Without them, how would I survive? 

At that age, time is still a nebulous concept. One minute, one day or one year, who was I to tell? They were basically going to be gone forever. I don’t remember sharing my laments with my parents, but they must have understood, because the day they left they sat me down with a box of my favorite treats—brownies. In all their prepackaged glory, these brownies became my lifeline. How? 

“Kiddo, we’re going to be gone for six days. And you’re going to be alright. In fact, we got you these brownies to help you feel better.” 

I must have had a puzzled look on my little face. Luckily, they continued, “We are going to be gone six days. Guess how many brownies are in here? Six! So here’s what we’re going to do. Every single day we’re gone, Nana and Grandpa are going to give you one of these brownies. The day you eat the last brownie and the box is empty, Mommy and Daddy will be back, okay?” 

Kudos to my parents, who understood that, even at that age, I thought in numbers. Ask any teacher, and they’ll tell you that tasty manipulatives always help get the point across. So each day I did as my parents instructed. I cried, I asked how many days until they came back, my nana gave me a brownie, and I moved on with my day. I recall one particular day asking to see the box numerous times. I couldn’t quite grasp the number of remaining days in my head, but when I looked in the box and counted brownies, I had a tangible (and yummy) sense of time. Visual progress. 

Fast forward almost twenty years, where I find myself looking for proverbial brownies everywhere I can. 

“So, my parents left four days ago, and it’s only 47 days until I see them again. That’s just a month and a half, and in that time I have Valentine's Day, the start of school and a bunch of other stuff to look forward to.” 

“I see my girlfriend every two weeks, and the last time I saw her was 9 days ago, so that’s only one work week of days left until I see her. And I have plans to see a friend Monday, so that’s not too bad.”

“The interview portion of my application was submitted today, and I get the results the first of February. I won’t be in office next week, but I will be the following week. I have a timesheet due and six class periods between now and then, so I’ll be busy enough that hopefully I won’t think about it too much.”

With all of the plates I keep spinning in the air for the circus I call my life, it is not uncommon for two or three of these plates to occasionally float into the air, just out of my reach, still spinning but completely out of my control. It is hard to spin seven or eight plates—to balance classes, applications, family, friends, roommates, relationships, jobs, research and classes—but I would much prefer they stay in my hands rather than into someone else's. There is not much worse for me than losing control and having to wait, yet this is the nature of life. Work, then wait. Put your heart and soul into something, then pass it off to be appraised by someone else. 

I live by countdowns, proverbial brownies that keep me going, day by day. So, what am I waiting for now? I got into school. I had my birthday. I graduated (finally!). I think I have decided to take a break from waiting, from proverbial brownies, to instead just live right now. 

I don’t always have to be chasing something to be happy. And brownies aren’t just for waiting. 


Delaney Couri is a master’s student in the Department of Teaching, Learning and Culture.