Second: It's long. WTF else is new. Hush, and read or don't
So I went to the mall last night. I had to do some shopping, and the mall was the most efficient place to do it, as is the way of malls. At least, it seemed the most efficient way to do it, what with everything i needed located under one roof. Sadly, everything i don't need is there too, and it's so shiny and pretty that of course i stop and look. Three freaking hours at the mall, and money i didn't need to be spending on things i don't need to be buying. Oh well.
I wandered the halls, feeling a little bit lost and purposeless, despite being well aware of my purpose there. That's a new feeling for me, a retail whore, who can find any store in any mall in three minutes flat (maybe a little extra for walking time, if it's a big mall). At first, i thought it was because i hadn't eaten yet, as that makes me flaky, confused, and out of sorts. Sometimes it makes me combative or morose too, but i wasn't really those things, not this time. I was just lost.
So i ate, and that didn't help. I still wandered from store to store, looking, touching, and looking some more. Being the kinesthetic (have i rambled enough about that yet?), i figured getting a finger-sense of things would help. It didn't. It made me feel strangely disconnected from everything, and that was confusing. I connect through touch, and it grounds me.
I was decidedly without ground last night. Despite food and fabric sense, i was adrift.
I wandered about, back and forth, and bought everything that seemed to speak to me. As a casual aside, some lucky girl's getting the awesomest gift ever, thanks to my utter confusion and my need to find my center. You're welcome, and I love you, haha
And then, when the mall was winding down on the closing time home stretch, i went to walmart. I had to grab a couple of things, and it made the most sense to get them there (since it'd cost triple anywhere else in the mall, given the nature of them). I spent as little time as possible in there, because that place drains the life out of me. All that faceless consumerism is just exhausting and disheartening, and i can't take it. That, or maybe it's that it's ugly and packed to the rafters with crap and losers, just like me, who are desperate to toss their coins in the coffer for a little oblivion in the form of happy faced "our prices are always this low!" signs. Maybe i just can't handle the mirrors there.
I made my purchases, made a point of being pleasant to the cashier who, given her demeanor, was feeling as desperate to run as i was, and wandered out. The walmart is connected to the mall by a long hallway, and in the hallway they have the usual suspects. The posters for AUP-find, the set of gumball machines that are filled with gumballs (duh), cheap necklaces, stickers, and the candy du jour (it happened to be Runts, this time). I debated buying some stickers for the egg, but they were jungle creatures, and he's off animals and onto pokemon, at least this week.
By the AUP-find boards, they've got the grab game. You know the one. You drop your twonie in, and the machine grabs it, and laughs as you try like a retard on smack to use the little robotic hand to get you a 10 cent stuffed animal. This one's not even a winner every time, so you're doomed before you start.
And next to that, they have a kiddie ride. It was a little car with a tuxedo-wearing elephant in the passenger seat, for company as you take a leisurely cruise, i guess. Perhaps the makers of that kiddie ride are unaware that aups are deliriously imaginative little creatures, and don't really need the visual aid to imagine themselves on their way to a spectacular event. Perhaps they just had a spare elephant, and figured that was as good a place as any to put it.
Most times, the kiddie ride is silent and empty when you pass it. It's $2 for a two minute ride, and everyone with eggs knows that a 2 minute ride barely awakens the consciousness, let alone satiate it. That trip's gonna cost you a good $6, and sometimes more on a really dreary day.
Yesterday was decidedly dreary.
I was about ten feet from it when i saw a little aup in it. He couldn't have been more than *18* (which, of course, he wasn't, he was more of a hat trick than a hockey team - and yes, i hate speaking in obscurities as much as you hate reading them), and he was doing all the things one does on such a road trip. Making the vroom sound, spinning the wheel madly so as to careen from one ditch to the other, and occassionally chatting with his companion about the things AUPs chat about. He seemed to be having a perfectly delightful cruise, as the car rocked from side to side.
Then i noticed that the machine wasn't on, in the way that a mom knows. There were no flashy lights, there were no random noises, the rocking was gentle and not jerky as it always is on those cheap-ass rides.
And I knew then, in the way that only a mom knows.
I came up to it, and there she was, on her knees on the floor in front of it. Her shopping bags (all two of them) were set neatly on the floor between her and the wall, and her coat was off, and folded across her lap, over top of his. Everything as it should be, for a woman used to setting everything in its safe place so she can pause to give her kid what he wants most.
She was probably about my age, and similar enough that i had a pretty good idea how old he was, without even looking closely at him. We moms are like trees, and parenting those glorious little demons makes its mark on our faces. If you peel back the makeup and the glasses, you'll see how long we've been at it -- just like cutting a tree open to see the rings. Mom rings, that's what we wear on our faces.
She had 4. 1 for the year of living life as an acorn, and 3 for the years of driving down roots and reaching for the sun. She had that tired showed, that tired that you learn to cover better, as you get more rings.
I watched them, for a second, before she realized it, and our eyes met. We gave each other those smiles you give each other, when you know you're both single mothers. Hers: a little apologetic, a little humble, and a lot fiercely devoted to whatever it takes to that little oak's happiness. Mine was bittersweet...from understanding, and the tender sadness that comes with it.
Those rides cost a fortune, and those of us that are the sole breadmakers, shoe buyers, and bandaid putter-onners know those damned rides are a week's worth of milk. And our hearts break even harder than theirs do, every time we have to shake our heads, and take their hands to lead them on with a "no babe, sorry, mommy has no change today". 'Cause we really want to...and we really can't. We just can't.
Sometimes, the heartbreak's so bad, that we succumb. We'll dig through the wallet and find the twonie, and give them two minutes of bliss that they'll forget by the time we hit the payphones, just because we've got enough mom rings to know you gotta take that two minutes of bliss wherever, whenever, however you can get it.
Other times, though, we just don't have it. We know that $2.41 is gonna buy a 2L of milk, if the safeway lady's feeling generous today and willing to let us off the hook for the extra six cents. And we still know that two minutes of bliss are probably just as important as the milk, so we pawn the only other thing we've got to give that little oak a few minutes of joy: our pride.
We arrange our shopping, near the wall, where it's out of the way of the jabbering teens who aren't watching where they walk, and where it can't be snatched in a grab and run, because we're far too tired to chase anyone. We fold the jackets halfways, and hold them against ourselves, so we can keep track of them, 'cause we are in no position to be buying new ones if they get stolen, and far too proud to walk back to the car in footprint covered coats. And we get down on our knees, in front of the little red jalopy, and hold our heads plenty high, 'cause it helps the dignity go down.
She looked me in the eye, and smiled a little, and i smiled back at her, the drawn in, head tilted kind of smile that says "it's all good hon, i see you, and i know you, and i've been on my knees too". She smiled a little brighter then, 'cause dignity's not so sour when you share it with someone else.
I kept walking, and the vision of them stayed in my head. I had brain memory of that little egg's little egghead bobbing around in that jalopy, and i had body memory of just how you gotta move your lips to make the "vrrrreeerrrrrrm" sound be realistic, at least to a hat trick.
And i got to the end of the hall, where the white linoleum turns to taupe tile, letting you know you've hit the quality shopping, and i stopped. I put my own shopping down, and took my purse off my shoulder, and dug around in my pretty lime green wallet.
I turned back, and walked up to her, and held my hand out, with the two twonies i had left. She looked up at me, and i said "it's been a long time since my guy was little enough to enjoy the jalopies, and i'd love it if you'd let your guy have a ride or two, from us."
She hesitated, longer than i would have, and then took it with not much more than a smile and a "thanks, that's really nice of you". I smiled back, and walked away. It wasn't my moment anymore, and staying would have been more than i paid for.
I finished my errands in 15 minutes, after that. And picked up an extra gift, for the person who's taken up residence in my head, and made me pink enough and shiny enough to dig for change in my pretty green wallet, just because it made more than me smile.
Yesterday was a dreary day, filled yet again with wonder, and with pink.
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