There are two things in my house that have become essential to my day to day. Both were brought down for me from my friend Jake when he came here three weeks ago; I’ve reached the end of one and am approaching the end of the other. The first, the thing that’s been finished by my steady intake of it, is a bag of Hershey Kisses. The other is a bag of Dunkin’ Donuts Hazelnut ground coffee. I wept hot tears last night as I unwrapped the silver foil from the last Kiss, and, this morning, I shook the once-full bag of coffee and realized soon I would be mourning yet another passing. And Lo, when that day cometh, there shall be grief of Shakespearean proportions. (For those of you just tuning in, I live in Brazil and we have neither Hershey’s Kisses nor Dunkin’ Donuts here. And only one Starbucks in the whole country.) I know there’s chocolate here, and I know there’s coffee here. But it’s not home chocolate. And it’s not home coffee. And that, I guess, is the point.