I'm with my sister, Jennifer, at Cost Plus World Market, an overpriced Pier One meets international 7-eleven, a store which conjures up in me a deep craving for beautiful material goods that would impede my faith and pocketbook.
I wander off by myself and out of the corner of my eye spot a very Chinese thermos. I become a bit wistful as I lift the lightweight bottle that is surely two feet high and as big around as a gallon of Edy's Grand. Before I even realize my memory is rolling shots of Changzhou, China like a home video, I hear the opening lines of my all-time favorite Beatles' song, a song so beloved I've always said I'll have it in my wedding.
There are places I'll remember, all my life...
The thermos conjures images of weather worn, world weary elders in shops, outside shops, hanging clothes, bicycling to and fro, selling wares--always, it seemed, with a big thermos not far away.
I turn, thinking the wave has subsided, only to look up and discover I've landed squarely in the Chinese dish aisle.
All these places have their moments, with lovers and friends I still can recall...
Chopsticks. Lots of chopsticks at this World Market. But not as many as at Hy-Mall. Suddenly I'm there, at Hy-Mall, around the corner from the bedding, across from the woks and the unexplainable, infinitesimal plastic bowls, in the chopstick section. Darlene is picking out souvenirs, packages of the decorated sticks spilling over her arms. Anna rolls her eyes at Benny's silly puns and sarcastic remarks as she shoots some back. Ellen is trying to catch up, but an older couple is inadvertantly blocking the aisle, distracted and enamored by her big blue eyes. They nudge each other and nod in our direction as they chatter on in tones and syllables that now sound familiarly unfamiliar to me.
Though I know I'll never lose affection for people and things that went before...
The World Market shelves are stacked with saucers and rice bowls. The shallow, square dipping dishes and the oddly shaped, awkward soup spoons remind me of elaborate dinners with people I can't forget. Hannah and Henry. Land and Yvonne. Neil and his mother. I think of Ellen, eating from my bowls, rescuing me from foods that tasted so different to me. I recall toasting, and future cola, and compromised omelets, and giant lazy susans.
In my life, I've loved you more.
At the other end of the aisle, I turn again, and am now surrounded by wine glasses and ice buckets. The song is over, and something in Spanish with a mariachi sound brings me back to the moment. And the tide is out once more.
