Now and then, you meet face to face with a story too funny to not be real. Too ironic to be fiction. One of those that you try to write down, lest you forget and lose the jewel.

Last December, my sister and I went to Bath and Body Works to shop for gifts for the youth Christmas gift exchange. During our time of wandering around, sniffing the myriad of scents of candles and lotions, we couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between a sales associate and a customer.

“Oh, that’s a good choice–cinnamon is my all-time favorite scent. You can’t lose with that.” The associate speaking was in the upper range of 55, a short, happy lady.

“Hmm, yeah, not bad. (Sniff) I’m not crazy about this scent, but it’s alright,” said the customer.

“Oh my word, you’ve gotta hear this.” The associate lady’s expression animated. “When my son was in high school, he convinced me that he was allergic to cinnamon. He couldn’t handle the smell of it, couldn’t eat it or he’d get sick, I mean, no exposure to cinnamon, period. That was not cool for me, because, cinnamon is my favorite scent! I got rid of my cinnamon apple wax cubes; didn’t make any cinnamon rolls either.”

“Well then he went to college, and from there he entered the Army. During this time, we never talked about his allergy, but I was still under the impression that he had that allergy.”

“You know,” she continued to her customer, who by now was intently listening with her head cocked, “he just got out of the Army last year. And he finally told me, ‘Mom, when I was in high school, my friends dared me to make you believe I was allergic to something all through high school. Didn’t matter what–just something. So I chose cinnamon, even though I really don’t mind the scent. Mom, I’m not allergic to cinnamon. But I did win the bet.'”

I was a display case away from the conversation. But I laughed out loud. When does that happen?! If I were to extract a moral from the story, it might be that peer pressure is a powerful force with opportunities to impact even the smallest details of our lives. However, are all stories meant to have morals? Or do some stories, such as The Princess and the Pea, and The Cat and the Hat, exist simply for the enjoyment of the hearer?

The Cinnamon Allergy Story hung around in my head long after the gift exchange and my musings of story morals. I share it not as an account to be dissected for its applications, but as a yarn to be spun with friends.

May it gift your day, and perhaps inspire you to light a candle. And, while you’re at it, make it a cinnamon candle.