Grocery Aisle Story

In the grocery aisle, a familiar announcement came over the loudspeaker- “Will the parents of Lucy…”  A beautifully coiffed, silver-haired lady opened her mouth and gave a full throated laugh, and looking at me- a perfect stranger- told me her story –

Years ago, her son (now 45) got lost in Rodman’s.   I knew just where she meant- an old two level store tucked into an office building.  We all love Rodman’s warren of aisles because they cram in everything from wheelchairs to wine. Her little brown-haired boy, she gestured to show a small child’s low head, got lost from them while exploring the store.  The ubiquitous announcement came on- “Will the parents of Amy…”

She was laughing.  I said, “Amy, that’s you?”  “No,” she said, “Amy was the little girl he was so smitten with at the time.  We knew right away it was him!”

I laughed with her as I imagined the lost little boy, upon being asked his name, answering with Amy!

Ah, how our identities become linked with those of our beloved…

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10 thoughts on “Grocery Aisle Story

  1. What a great story! At first, I was startled by the “Will the parents of Amy…” and read on. A delightful close to the story – and yes, your analysis – our identities closely tied to those we love and who love us. Just a beautiful way to start my week! Thank you.

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  2. Loved your title – drew me in immediately! Such a great story and I love how she shared it with you and now you with us. The power of story!
    Clare

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I know Rodman’s well and can easily imagine losing your child in that quirky place. It’s funny how the woman felt so free to tell you her story – and that you were there to listen to it (she couldn’t have picked a better person to tell it to). It’s a “found” story. It makes me wonder about the many other stories hidden in that place – both the stories of the people who work there and the clientele.

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    1. You’re right- quirky is just the word for Rodman’s, and I’ll bet there are a thousand stories there! I often wonder about all the immigrant cashiers who seem to know each other, for one thing.

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  4. How many times have I wanted to ask someone I didn’t know what they were laughing at… But mostly I just smile and keep walking. It’s obvious that I’ve missed some great stories.

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