On Target

If I could play it on piano, I wouldn't have to try to find the words. And I'm sure it would sound nicer. 

This morning, there was a little magic out there. I earned access to it by staying in the house on the verge of lonesome for a long time and by righting a tipped-over shopping cart in the Target parking lot. Karma going my way, shopping for my mother at 8:15 AM, not many other shoppers, upbeat Christmas music piped in overhead. I haven't overdosed on it this year because I live predominantly in solitary confinement, so it was kind of refreshing. I discovered an African woman dancing in the toothpaste aisle. Caught you, I said. We laughed quietly. Merry Christmas to you, I said. She smiled wide and a smile began inside me too. I felt warmer. 

A few minutes later, when I was picking through candy cane shaped plastic tubes filled with M&M's, a song played. Something like, "I'm Wearing My Stretchy Pants". The first new holiday season song I've heard in years that was any good. My inner smile grew a little brighter. 

And then as I was leaving, I saw a group of developmentally disabled young adults paired up with staff people learning how to grocery shop. One girl looked at me over her shoulder. She'd taken control of the shopping cart and had all the mischief and light in her eyes of a teenage girl about to take a convertible out for a spin for the first time. My smile spread outward and onto my face. 

Outside, light snow flurries were starting to fall. I took a deep breath in.