It is said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Eye candy is a giant leap beyond that. It is something that is as luscious to the eye as chocolate is to the tongue or as enchanting as Mozart is to the ear: utterly absorbing while it lasts, a moment to be savored.
On summer nights when I was a kid in Texas and in spite of the ubiquitous chiggers, I would lie in on my back in the grass and look at the stars. I located all of the Constellations, watched shooting stars, observed the way the moon changed as the days passed. The night sky was true eye candy at a time and place where nights were actually dark and the stars were like diamonds.
When I was a teenager, cute boys unquestionably were in the eye candy category. That lasted until I figured out that the really cute ones were mostly toads of a variety you wouldn’t want to kiss.
In my twenties and childless, babies and toddlers made me salivate. Even plain babies fit the eye candy bill when they gurgled or laughed. Toddlers were enchanting when they were delighted by the playfulness of a puppy or were absorbed by something new. Alas! That rose wilted with smelly diapers and the discovery of the thorns of tantrums.
When the kids were asleep and the day’s work was done, a good book was my eye candy in my thirties. They were good kids, funny, charming, intelligent little gnomes that they were, but they left me exhausted. Books took me on voyages to other worlds and lands: the courts of kings, the wonders of Egypt, the challenges of the building of the Panama Canal. Books were more than eye candy: they were candy to my soul.
When my nest was empty again in my forties, eye candy became the irises and strawberries in my garden, a spider web after a rain (outdoors, of course!), a blue heron spotted during a hike on the C&O Canal. I wandered through state and national parks and forests with my eyes opened for the first time. I also became re-acquainted with chiggers in a number of them.
I advanced to a position of importance in my fifties and became a workaholic. For the first time in the two decades since my divorce, I savored economic security. My eye candy was my paycheck. Each pay day, I would look at it and gloat that I actually was earning more money than the ass I had married ever made.
Retirement in my sixties allowed me to enter my second childhood. How did I ever find time to WORK? I noticed, for the first time, that “work” is a four-letter word. Now, if I wanted to, I could play all day. I discovered quilting, and fabric is my eye candy. I am living happily ever after.