I never peeked. I just imagined there were about a dozen. Small but mighty. Sealed and frozen. I could practically smell them whenever I passed my freezer. Their sweet seductive song, reminiscent of Greek Sirens, leaked through the stainless steel door.

Inside were two simple white boxes holding a divine assortment of white, milk and dark chocolate candies, part of the final offerings of Chilmark Chocolates. Yet here I was holding on to these boxes until the day came to give them to a stranger.

I never thought I would be the secretary of my children’s school’s PTO, yet here I was organizing our first silent auction. To ensure its success, I had gone to the last day at Chilmark Chocolates, waiting in a two-plus hour line in the December cold. Once inside I purchased four quarter-pound, pre-mixed boxes: one for me, one for mom and two for the PTO silent auction.

Later that night, I nibbled a creamy peanut butter bar from my box, then I wrapped mom’s box and froze the other two boxes.

The nutty blends and caramels were the next to go as I nibbled away at my stash. A few nights later, after attacking my box like a famished seagull, I thought about opening the freezer to glance, only glance, at what was in those other boxes. If there was a dark truffle, I could switch it for a milk glazed apricot. No one would know.

But I also knew there would be no stopping me. Soon, it would be a dark pecan bark for a Beetlebung bar, a dark cromlech crunch for a crystallized ginger. Then the boxes would quickly be reduced to some crumbs and lonely milks.

Auction time neared and my thoughts swirled. “Maybe my time is enough to be donating,” I thought. “Or perhaps I could adjust the bid sheet to say one box not two.”

Then I imagined the joy the candy would bring and how those magical boxes could fund school basketball uniforms and parent education workshops, mixing the power of good chocolate and community spirit just as Chilmark Chocolates had done for 33 years.

I finished my box of chocolates and avoided the freezer until auction day. Those chocolates, crafted by hand and heart, were destined to go so much farther than my belly. When the time came I placed them on the bidding table and, with a slight sigh, wished them well.

Moira Silva lives in West Tisbury.