As I age, I gain more knowledge and experience and continue to discover new things that tickle me. (My mother used to say something “tickled her” when she liked it, so I’m borrowing her expression.)

While taking my evening bath last night, soaking in a tub of luxurious, bubbly water, sipping a frozen wine cooler, and fiercely defending my Words with Friends honor on my iPad, I reached for the fancy new bottled soap my good friend gave me for Christmas. I expected the usual syrupy goo, but instead, it erupted in a dramatic puff of foam, like fluffy snow, if snow were warm and fragrant. I was delighted as it aromatically dissolved on my skin and giggled at this unexpected turn of events as I over-washed myself just so I could make the delightful adventure last. This new experience “tickled me.”

I have been trying to eat healthier lately, so apples and peanut butter have become my go-to snack. Hubby got a good laugh when I brought home a five-pound container of peanut butter and started scooping out generous mounds in which to dip my apple slices. The real challenge, though, was cutting the apples. I kept rummaging through our drawers trying to find a knife sharp enough to do the job. Sensing my frustration, Hubby came home one day with an apple corer, a contraption he remembered using when baking pies with his grandmother. Since I am baking illiterate, I had never seen one. Lo and behold, this simple little gadget, when placed on top of an apple, slices it and removes the core and seeds in one fell swoop. I was joyful! It was so easy! This amazing little device “tickled me.”

I work at a church and am often the assigned “greeter,” stationed at the front door to welcome people as they arrive for services. Dressed in a pretty dress to compensate for my make-up-free face and poodle-style grey hair, I smile broadly to dazzle people with charm as they enter. I am always touched by the sight of the many elderly couples holding hands as they walk into church. I smile extra sweetly at them, tickled by the thought that they have such enduring love after so many years of marriage.  Unfortunately, my delight was somewhat deflated when a colleague pointed out that the husband may simply have a bad hip and needed his wife’s hand for support, or that the wife might suffer from dizziness and needed her husband to steady her. Still, I choose to believe in love.

Carrying cash with me has gone the way of the dinosaur. I always have my ATM card ready when making purchases, and this is generally sufficient. However, as I came out of Stop and Shop the other day, I saw a group of elderly veterans selling candy bars. Always wanting to support the military and, because I was on a diet and secretly yearning for chocolate, I was desperate to make a purchase. Unfortunately, the volunteers did not have one of those fancy card readers on their phones. They only accepted cash. I promptly plopped myself down on the curb and began emptying my pocketbook, piece by piece, hoping to uncover some forgotten money. Receipts, gum wrappers and Post-it notes fluttered from my lap into the parking lot, dancing playfully among the cars. My focus remained steady as I sifted through some coins at the bottom of my purse. I counted seventy-five cents, then another eleven cents, and finally found a quarter wedged deep in a corner of my wallet. Tickled by my success, I leapt to my feet and proudly handed my one dollar and eleven cents to one of the lovely gentlemen selling the candy bars. In my excitement, the contents of my purse, which had been sitting in my lap, tumbled to the ground. I did not care. I had my chocolate!   

I love my life most when it is filled with small surprises and moments that tickle me with delight.