Monday, December 1, 2025

Stills- a short story for Writers Unite!

 

 Stills

By: Kelli J Gavin 

I always said I wouldn't return. This small town was never home to me. I was here for such a short time, I don't think anyone will remember me. When I received the letter requesting my presence from the Law Firm of Stills, Stills & Barkley, it stopped me in my tracks. I must have read through the letter three times before I understood what it was really saying. 

        -As I already knew, the owner of the coffee shop where I worked for 8 months in my late teens had passed away.

        -I am welcome to come early on the 20th of December, and attend the funeral at 11 a.m. at the Barkley Funeral Home in town. After, a light luncheon will be served at Barkley's, the aforementioned coffee shop. At 3 p.m. Mr. Barkley from Stills, Stills & Barkley would like to meet with me at Barkley's to hand over a large box left to me by Mrs. Stills who owned Barkley's. 

        -I was to inform Mr. Barkley if a room at the Stills Inn should be reserved in my name for that night or if I would be leaving town right away. 


            I giggled out loud reading the letter. In the town of Stills, The Stills and Barkley families owned everything. The coffee chop, the funeral home, the inn, the two restaurants, the bank and bakery, the gas station, the thrift store, etc.. You name it. Someone with the last name of Stills or Barkley owned it. Stills  only had a population of about 7500 people, but you were a novelty if your last name wasn't Stills or Barkley. Generation after generation called Stills home and they lead quiet, content lives. There was no reason to live anywhere else when Stills had all that they would need. 

            I lived in Stills for just over a year. My dad was a nomad by nature. Never spending too much time in any one place, I got to see most of the United States by the time I graduated high school. I loved history and road travel, so this was the highlight of my young years. Because my dad and I spent so much time together, I was his captive audience. He taught me everything he knew and emphasized the importance of being a lifelong learner. He challenged me to read books beyond my understanding and to make notes with any questions I had. We then addressed those questions at dinner each night. Because we moved so often, he also tasked me with navigation and to learn everything about each location we passed through, or even when settled for a spell. When did the town and state originate? What is the population and topography? Were there any interesting historical happenings in a specific town or state? It was almost as if my dad challenged me with verbal book reports daily. I gladly relayed all the information that I learned at local libraries, historical societies and on the internet. 

            A year long construction contract brought my dad and I to Stills. My mom had died 5 years prior of an aggressive brain tumor and since, it was just him and I. At 17, moving to the small town of Stills was probably the first time I objected. Dad told me we needed the money and the town of Stills needed someone with experience who could work on both residential and commercial properties. Dad was made the Foreman of three specific projects. He would oversee three sites, one with twelve single-family homes, the commercial building which would house the car dealership, and the new restaurant and large gift shop at the end of town. It was a big undertaking for a small town to accomplish this much in a year, but they had faith in my dad's proven skills and he delivered. 

            Beginning my senior year actually on time with the other students my age was something that had rarely occurred in the past. Often, I would would start school at random times, November, January 1st and even April. Whenever we moved, dad always gave me a few weeks to adjust and then informed me of my start date. He would hand me money for a new backpack and school supplies and I was expected to do my best traveling around town on my own and acquire what was needed for school and clothing. The town of Stills was laid out so well with something interesting on each of the downtown streets. There were three new and used clothing stores, a bakery, a hardware store, a 99 cent store and an office supply store on Main Street alone. I was able to grab what I needed and then some. Things were so much less expensive in this small town than what we had encountered in the last two larger cities. 

            The teachers were excellent at Stills High School and I even made friends quickly. The other students were friendly and kind and helped me become comfortable in my new surroundings. I joined the choir and started taking a before school art class, but a few months into school, I was bored. I enjoyed spending time with my friends, but I needed to find an activity after school. I enjoyed the coffee at Barkley Coffee Shop so much, I figured after school I should ask if they are hiring. Mrs. Stills told me they weren't hiring, but she would 100% hire me. She explained that she observed that I worked so hard on my homework when there, didn't entertain conversations with friends and acquaintances until I was finished, and was always kind to the wait staff. I blushed at the minor compliments. She told me that I would need to be comfortable using the register, warming up baked goods, preparing coffee drinks, clearing tables and doing dishes. She also explained that if I closed I would need to clean the tables, floors and bathrooms. I felt I could do well with all of that and asked her if she needed to fill out an application. 

            "Sweet child. You are hired. I just ask that you show up on time when scheduled and don't leave me hanging. Stay off your cell phone and be kind to every person who enters those doors." Mrs. Stills replied.  

            Thrilled beyond belief, I asked when I could start. 

            "Now. You start now. Go wash your hands and I'll get you an apron." She smiled earnestly. 

            I loved working at Barkley Coffee Shop. I loved the employees, the customers and especially Mrs. Stills. I worked about 12-15 hours a week and enjoyed every moment of it. I learned so much about organizing everything for each new day, and even started learning how to keep the books. Mrs. Stills entrusted me to bring the deposits, cash and checks to the bank each afternoon before the bank closed and I always raced back so that she could go home and make dinner for her husband and relax. My time with Mrs. Stills was something I will always cherish. She was kind and encouraging, helped with homework when I got stuck and showed me how to make 6 baked items from scratch. I had never spent much time in the kitchen with my mom when I was little, so learning how to make baked goods was a delight. My dad loved when I then recreated them at home. Twice a month, she asked me to go to her home and cook dinner with her. She always made something easy, nutritious and delicious. I knew how to make 12 full dinners from scratch just by spending a free evening two times a month with Mrs. Stills. 

            The conversations that we had when it was just the two of us, are something I will always hold dear. She explained her heartache at never being able to have children and that she always wanted a daughter. She said she loved our time together so much and that she was touched that I enjoyed spending time with her and learning from her. She smiled and hugged me often. "You beautiful girl. The daughter I always prayed for!"

            My dad admired my baking and cooking skills as much as he was thrilled with my grades and the fact that I knew how to keep a checkbook, save money, make wise purchases and converse about things that matter. 

            Beaming at me across the dinner table one evening, my dad said, "Alyssa. You make me so happy. I love seeing you enjoy what you are doing and maturing into a well rounded human. I am so thankful that Mrs. Stills is pouring into your life and helping you grow. I feel she is an absolute God-send."

            When my dad's year-long contact approached it's final month, he explained that he asked to stay on for future projects in Stills, but nothing was slated for the next six months. He said we would be leaving Stills. Leaving Stills? But that was the last thing I wanted to do. We stayed in Stills for a total of 13 months. 13 months wasn't enough. 13 more wouldn't be either. I had graduated and decided to take a gap year. Dad encouraged me to commit to only one year off and then promptly return to school. We moved to Chicago as my dad signed a new 18 month contract for construction work on an upscale high rise remodel. 

            Telling Mrs. Stills that we were moving again was more challenging that I ever anticipated. 

            "But what will I do without the daughter I always wanted? I am glad your dad has another job lined up, but life will never be as entertaining as when you are here. I adore you. I am exited for you and what this life has to offer. Boy oh boy. I can't wait for the day to get a call from you telling me about some swanky big shot job you you have. The sky is the limit. You will be missed. But boy oh boy, am I exited for you."

            The tears I shed after my final shift the day before we left, could have watered Mrs. Stills front yard for an entire summer. So many hugs and so few words were exchanged. I vowed to never return as I felt I would be opening a fresh wound of regret for ever leaving such an amazing small town such as Stills.

            Dad and I quickly settled into our new apartment in Chicago and he was excited for this new challenge. I became bored quickly with two menial jobs and decided to start college courses after the New Year. I tested well and passed exams for the 1st two full years of classes within the first three months. I enjoyed college classes at my own pace and learned that a business degree was on my horizon. Business? Did I want to go into business? 

            I finished all of my undergraduate and graduate classes within two years total. At just 21, I had a masters in business formation and reorganization. I started working for a firm that was hired by large companies when they needed help and a fresh set of eyes. Someone to come in and teach them how to redeem profitability and increase growth without mergers or acquisitions being a part of short term and long term plans. I loved what I was hired to do and excelled. 

            I exchanged frequent emails with Mrs. Stills and we spoke monthly about what I was doing and what I was experiencing in Chicago. She laughed and reminded me that if I ever needed a job, there was always one waiting for me back in Stills. Dad's job turned into a permanent placement as construction foreman and he seemed to enjoy Chicago as much as I did. When I moved out and purchased my own apartment, he just smiled and said, "Look at my girl fly."

            As the years passed, memories of days gone by became a bit more fuzzy. Dad always asked about Mrs Stills. When the call came from her explaining that she wasn't feeling well and she had gone to the doctor, she was then diagnosed with Stage IV Breast Cancer and was told that chemo, radiation and surgery were all possible, but even with pursuing the greatest medical interventions, she was given a survival timeline of 12-18 months tops. 

            My heart hurt for her. My heart hurt for Mr. Stills. My heart just hurt.

            While we stayed in touch during those final months, nothing prepared me for the call that came late one evening from Mr. Stills. Mrs. Stills, the love of his life, had passed peacefully that afternoon. We cried together on the phone and I thanked him time and again for calling. He told me that information would follow about the memorial service. No formal funeral as Mrs. Stills wouldn't like that. Just a brief memorial and luncheon would be planned. I told him I would be there, no matter what. Even knowing how difficult it would be to go back to the only town where I found joy in as a teenager. 

            I was expecting to find out about the memorial and luncheon from Mr. Stills, not by receiving a letter from Mr. Barkley at Stills, Stills & Barkley. I emailed him promptly and stated that yes, I would attend the memorial, the luncheon and would be happy to meet with him after. I also requested that a room at the Inn be reserved for me. His assistant was happy to receive my response and she promptly booked me a room. She also said that I didn't need to pay for anything as all accommodations have been taken care of.  I thought that was odd, but thanked her for her help. Was everyone's accommodations being taken care of, or just mine? 

            Traveling to Stills, I knew to allow many more hours than necessary as the roads may may slippery because of the newly fallen snow. I left at 6 a.m. instead of 7:30 a.m. from Chicago and was pleased that most roads were clear until I got off the freeway about 20 miles from Stills. Those 20 miles I drove to Stills brought back so many great memories, I found myself wiping away one stray tear after another. 

            It was so good to see Mr. Stills and so many other people from town. I was received so warmly, I started crying before the memorial even began. The service was beautiful and was a true celebration of life. A God-Honoring Home Going Service to remember. My heart was full as each of the people selected to share warm memories of Mrs. Stills stood at the podium with a microphone. 

            The luncheon was so delicious and I enjoyed visiting with quite a few of the people that I had worked with all those years ago at Barkley Coffee Shop and gone to school with. Mr. Stills insisted I sit with him during the luncheon and told me more than once that he was so touched that I had returned to honor his wife in her passing. 

            "I wouldn't have it any other way. I owe my confidence, my knowledge and much of my success to your wife. She was the mom I needed. She knew she was and never missed a moment to love me and encourage me. I am forever thankful for all she did for me." I wiped a few tears as I expressed my gratitude. 

            Saying goodbye to a number of people I had visited with throughout the day, I nodded at Mr. Barkley as he entered the back room of the Barkley Coffee Shop. I joined him and looked around as if expecting other people, but it was just us.

            "Mrs. Stills loved you very much. You were the daughter she always wanted. This box is for you." Mr. Barkley stood and walked to the other side of the room and retrieved a large box with a lid.

            "Thank you." I said and paused. "Am I supposed to open this" I asked. 

            "Yes. I will leave you to it. Let me know if you have any questions." Mr. Barkley said as he exited.

            I opened the box and found a letter, on top of something wrapped in tissue paper. Opening the letter quickly, I found the beautiful handwriting of Mrs. Stills.

            My sweetest girl-

            Thank you for being you. You are the daughter I always dreamed of and prayed for. Thank you for never breaking contact with me all these years even after moving to Chicago. Your kindness has always warmed my heart. You are an amazing woman and it has been a privilege having you in my life. Please accept the contents of this box as my gift to you. I had always wanted to save money for retirement. Retirement was something that I never got to enjoy. Cancer is a beast and it has cut my life way too short. Don't wait until retirement. Take the trip you've always wanted to go on. Put a down payment on a house in the country. Buy a new car. Give this money freely to a cause you wish to support. Do whatever you wish. Just do it joyfully. Do it knowing I love you. I always have sweet girl. Thank you. I will be watching over you and your dad too. I promise.

Much love and adoration, 

Mrs. Stills

P.S. Don't argue about the contents of this box. Consider it your final Barkley Coffee Shop tip.

-------            

             I couldn't catch my breath for a few minutes and was so glad that Mr. Barkley hadn't returned. I removed the tissues from my purse and blew my nose and wiped my eyes. Reminding myself to take deep breaths, I stood as I prepared to untangle the tissue paper mound found in the large box on the table. 

            Money. It was a stack of $100 bills. Stack after stacks after stacks. I could hardly believe my eyes. Why cash? Oh. My final tip from Barkley Coffee Shop. Mrs. Stills was always so intentional and clever. 

            Mr. Barkley returned to me as I closed the lid of the large and heavy box on the table. "Will you be needing  any assistance getting to the Inn?"

            "No, no. I am fine. Thank you Mr. Barkley. Thank you for coordinating this for me. I appreciate you and the guidance you have given to Mr. and Mrs. Stills over the years." I stated. 

            At the Inn that night, I took a closer look at the contents of the box. $50,000. 50. I was in shock. 

            I returned home to Chicago the next day, but stopped as I was leaving town. I wanted to take one last picture before I left my favorite small town of Stills. 

          

 


   

 


Wednesday, October 1, 2025

Urn



Urn

By: Kelli J Gavin

For- Writers Unite!

                  






           “You have got to be kidding me!” Constance screamed as she tried to muffle the

   noise escaping her mouth. Both hands came flying to her own mouth before anything

else could exit.


        “What? That piece? What’s wrong? It sure is ornate. It must be new. I wonder

where Carolyn got it. Hmm.” Calista murmured trying to go unnoticed by the other

guests. 


    “I swear! If Gerald is in that urn, I am leaving,” Constance announced as Calista

stepped towards her quickly knowing that everyone could hear them talking.


    Calista blinked quickly, “Connie. Calm down. That isn’t an urn. It is much too big.

She hated Gerald and was glad he died. He was a brute and a bully. Why would she

place him in such a beautiful vase?”


    Before Constance could answer, Carolyn sashayed into the room. Wearing another

beautifully tailored flowing gown, Carolyn nodded as a few guests as she made her

way across the room to her sisters.


      "Isn’t it lovely? I have always had my eye in it at the antique store down on Smith

             Ave. I knew this was the perfect time to bring the vase into my home,” Carolyn offered

            without being asked. 


       “Gerald was an arse. You were with him for far too long. He doesn’t deserve to

            dwell in such splendor for all eternity. I can’t believe you chose that as his urn.”

            Constance sputtered. 


         In disbelief, Carolyn retorted, “Shush. What you are yaking about? Urn?

            That isn’t an urn. That is an expensive vase that deserves a place of honor in my home.

            Gerald isn’t in there. His remains from the Cremation place were delivered in a sealed

             plastic bag in a small cardboard box. They are under the kitchen sink if you must know.”


          Calista and Constance starred at Carolyn. It was Calista that began laughing first.

           Low and quiet laughter, and then as Constance could no longer contain herself, she joined in.

           Carolyn found humor in everything. She felt a bit a relief from the strangely somber day by

           being in the presence of her sisters. Just three sisters laughing together at the funeral luncheon

           of a deceased husband no one ever really liked. 


         “Carolyn, I know Gerald never gave you any access to anything. I know you didn’t have

            access to your bank accounts or even spending cash. Gerald’s financial abuse was legendary.

            And I know you haven't finalized the Will with the attorney or received any life insurance funds.

            Where did you get the money to pay for that vase without any access to funds?” Calista asked.


                         “Turns out the safe in Gerald’s office was super easy to open. The 4-digit code is

            my birthday. He had over $27,000 in cash in there. You heard me right. I also found out that his

           life insurance policy doesn’t state his sister as the sole beneficiary. It is me. I will inherit

           everything. The house is in my name, the life insurance is mine, and the attorney said that there

           is nominal debt. Everything in the investment accounts and bank accounts will also be mine.

           There were no other beneficiaries ever listed. That was just what he told me to make me feel

           insecure and cash poor. As if the only thing I would ever have would be the house because

           Daddy bought one for each of us when we got married.” Carolyn quietly disclosed wiping the

            final tears from her laughing fit with her sisters. 


                 “I also discovered that the business is debt free, and his business partner wants to buy

            out Gerald’s portion. He made me a cash offer this past weekend after I approached him

            carefully to ask questions. The attorney thinks it is a good idea to close on it quickly and the

            offer is fair. From the business alone, his partner is prepared to write me a check for just over

            $5 million. Gerald may have been the worst husband in the history of husbands, but he worked

            hard and saved and invested well. I will want for nothing from here on out,” Carolyn smiled. 


            Mouths agape, Calista and Constance couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Such a

 marvelous ending to a horrible 25-year debacle which was the marriage between Carolyn and

Gerald. 


        “If anyone asks, it’s an urn. Gerald’s urn. Make them think I loved him. Make them think I

am honoring him with such beauty in his passing. Because, if I’m honest, his ashes are being

discarded next Tuesday morning with the trash and recycling. I’ve always been great at throwing

out the trash.” Carolyn quipped.


            Fits of laughter ensued yet again, and The Three Cs all embraced. Life wasn’t always easy,

but that is why the three sisters were so fortunate to have each other. Carolyn knew this and was

so thankful that the mood of this ridiculous day had turned joyous. The blessing of laughter, her

lovely sisters, a spectacular vase/urn was now hers and sat in her parlor, and a windfall of cash

was on the horizon. Today was a day to remember. 


And next Tuesday when the garbage and recycling trucks pull up, would be her

first day of the rest of her life. Without Gerald.




             Bio-

Kelli J Gavin of Carver, Minnesota is a Writer and Professional Organizer. 400+ pieces

             published in over 75 publications. “I Regret Nothing- A Collection of Poetry and Prose”

and “My Name is Zach- A Teenage Perspective on Autism” were both released in 2019. 

@kellijgavin on Facebook and Instagram

              @keltotheg on TikTok




Thursday, April 4, 2024

I Know What That Means- By: Kelli J Gavin for Writers Unite!

I Know What That Means

By: Kelli J Gavin



After my family moved to Minneapolis three years ago, my parents refused to visit us in our new home. At first, I struggled with the fact that maybe they didn’t care enough to see my new home. I even convinced myself that they were probably a little bitter since we chose to move away. And by away, we are only talking twenty minutes with traffic from the home in which I was born and raised. Repeatedly, both my husband and I carefully broached the conversation of a visit with my parents and about stopping by our house after an event at the school. They politely declined each and every time. They no longer participated in any activities for their grandchildren, since everything now involved them driving from their posh city streets of Edina to Minneapolis.


Harry and I felt moving to Minneapolis was the best decision possible after he was transferred to a new office there and all three kids had been accepted to the Conservatory of Theater and Music. We knew each child would be receiving the best possible education and Harry seemed delighted with his five minute commute which he often walked in the warm Minnesota summer months. Our new home was a historic, three-floor brownstone with plenty of space as we considered having more children.


With my 35th birthday soon approaching, I called my Mom to invite them to a small get together.


“Hey, Mom. How are you doing?” I asked knowing what would follow.


“Babe, I am doing well. I am looking forward to planting a few more bushes this week. Your father said he would help. The weather will be perfect.” All conversations with my mother began with garden and yard talk with a little bit of weather thrown in for good measure.

“I look forward to seeing them. Say, the weekend after next, we are having a small party for my 35th on Saturday, the day before my birthday. We are planning on only about 20 people and we will be serving all your favorites. It starts at about 5:30 p.m.. I look forward to seeing you both.” I planned to not say another word and let her sit in the silence.


“Sarah, I am not comfortable driving into the city. How about the Friday after next, I’ll take you out for lunch. You can come here and we can go catch a nice bite and maybe shop a few of the boutiques down on 50th and France.” My mother suggested as she does every year.


“Mom, that is very nice of you, but I am not able to. That week leading up to my birthday is quite busy and I have a meeting that Friday. I understand you are not comfortable. Mom, I am asking you to do something bold. It is my 35th and it is special to me. I want to celebrate with you. You have never been to my home and I am excited to show you everything we have done. I am asking you and Dad to do this for me. Let this be your gift to me. Come to my home and celebrate with me.” I cringed relaying the last sentence.


“I do not want to. You’ll have more fun with your friends. You don’t need your Dad and I there. We can do something another time.”


“Mom, there are no declines available to you at this point. I am requesting your presence because I will be hurt if you do not attend.” I needed to pass on some guilt in hopes of her saying yes.


“Sarah, fine. Why are you so stubborn? I am still bringing a gift.” She spouted. I wondered briefly if she hadn’t figured out who I got that from. “We will be there. We won’t be staying past dark. I don’t like this at all. I might have to take a pill before we get in the car just so I can do it.”


Her pills were often mentioned when she wanted someone to feel bad for her, feel guilty or to make sure attention swayed back to her. I think her pills were Tums.


“Thank you, Mom. Thank you. I’ll see you at 5:30 p.m. the day before my birthday. I’ll even text both you and Dad the address again and a link for the directions. I love you, Mom.” Tears poked at the corner of my eyes.

“Babe, I love you.” And with that, she hung up.


I was elated yet wiping tears as Harry walked into the bedroom.


“So, has the Queen Mother finally decided to grace us with her presence?” Harry grinned.


“Yes. Oh my word, yes. Now we’ll see what excuses she can come up with to bail. Do you wanna place a bet? Will she or her ugly crusty little white ankle biter dog come down with some grave sickness to keep her away?” I giggled as I wiped the last of my tears.


Much to my astonishment, no excuses came. The evening of the party, my parents arrived “fashionably” early at 5 p.m. as expected. They were always prompt if not early. As my father hesitantly parked by the curb, I watched out of our huge picture window. No sooner had he placed the car in park, my mother’s car swung open wide. Barreling out of the car, she scanned in every direction, slammed the car door and bolted up the 5 stairs leading to our front porch. Entering the home without knocking, she even slammed the door behind her. My dad hadn’t even exited the car yet.


“Mom, I am so glad you are here. Welcome! But didn’t you forget something?” I asked.


“What?” She felt for her handbag, and checked to make sure she also had a gift bag in hand.


“Dad. You forgot dad.” I couldn’t help but laugh.


As dad entered the front door, we all hugged and kissed Hello. My Mom looked nervous and her eyes darted around the room.


“Sarah, your home is beautiful. The colors are exquisite. You have done a marvelous job.” Harry began to give them a tour and I got the kids settled after hugs and kisses with their grandparents.


“Mom, we forgot to pick up the rolls we ordered at the corner store. Come, walk with me and get them.” I stated.


Fear. That is all that I saw. My request to join me on a walk in my neighborhood in Minneapolis made my Mom appear to be filled with fear.

“Sarah, I can not join you. No. No, I just can’t. We saw what was on the corner. I saw those shoes over the power lines. I know what that means. That means they sell drugs there! Your home is quite beautiful, but how can you live here? The gangs sell drugs on your street!” My Mom shouted much louder than necessary.


Feeling so incredibly thankful that they had arrived early, and no one else was in ear shot, I saw the last of my kids round the corner smirking with raised eyebrows after hearing what their Grandma had just said.


“Mom, yes. You saw shoes over the lines on the corner. You assumed it was drugs because that is what you even told me when I was young. Mom, those shoes thrown over the line were from the high school seniors who live on our surrounding streets. They do this in celebration of graduating. In England, they used to throw shoes when someone was married. Shoes thrown over lines don’t always mean gangs are present or drugs are being sold!” I exclaimed not only to be heard but also in grappling with disbelief. “Our neighborhood isn’t just safe, we have become friends with our neighbors, there are tons of kids for our kids to play with. We wouldn’t have moved here if we thought there was the potential for our family to be in danger!”


There was silence followed by tears as Mom collapsed into a puddle onto the couch. Once my Mom gathered herself, she went on to explain she had always been a fearful person, but us moving to Minneapolis was unfathomable. She always thought of Minneapolis as a dangerous place to dwell and people only lived there if they had to. With her slightly tearful explanation, I was able to figure out why she had always refused invitations to our home and why she would do anything to go out of her way to never drive those few miles to the home I now treasured. The house that my family had made our forever home.


After apologies were extended and faces were dried, other guests began to arrive. My father and I served as greeters when Harry quickly stepped out to pick up the bread order at the corner store, and Mom went upstairs to spend some long overdue time with her grandchildren.


The party ended up being a delight. My parents finally meeting our new friends and neighbors warmed my heart. My Mom’s heart continued to soften throughout the evening and her fear disappeared. Minneapolis had its crime and issues, but my Mom now felt better informed about her surroundings and our choice to move here, even though Harry and I had explained it all a thousand times. Seeing my Mom and Dad smile while in conversation with our neighbors made me feel elated that this breakthrough occurred.

As they left that night, my Mom leaned in and whispered one last apology. “Babe, I saw that coffee shop about two blocks away as we drove here. What if next Saturday morning, I stop by and we can take the kids. Maybe we could get a donut or something and a cup of coffee. I would like it if you could show me some of the stores you like to shop in now.”


Immediately, I agreed and smiled at Harry. He knew exactly how important this night was for our family and my for my Mom and Dad. Thankful to be 35, I was also thankful for a corrected misunderstanding and that fear was no longer present.




Tuesday, September 12, 2023

Bags

I was thrilled when I realized I didn't have to race off anywhere this morning. I got the kids up and off to school and then had one early call. I then showered and changed and called my best friend as we had scheduled a time to talk this morning. I enjoyed our time together catching up on each other's lives and praying for each other. 

When we finished talking, I packed up my purse and filled a water bottle and headed out the door to run a few errands.  My first errand at the Dollar Tree found me conversing with a 50ish man and 60ish woman about inter ocular lenses and the lack of depth perception. I made a mental note not to listen in on other people's conversations and not to pipe in even when my 10+ year experience was something that could assist in their original conversation. 

When I got to the grocery store, I quickly located my quarter for my cart and my shopping bags and headed towards the store. Minnesota weather is absolutely beautiful this week. I say "this week" because let's be real. It is Minnesota. It might be September but the weather can change at any time. I stood outside my car once I had righted myself and closed my eyes. The sun was shining and breeze had picked up. I knew my son would love the weather today as he loves bright hot sun with a breeze and cooler temps. 

As I approached the store, I saw a woman maybe 20+ years my senior locating her cart of choice in the outdoor storage area.  I rounded the corner and saw her struggling a bit to insert her quarter, so I waited my turn and swung my purse over my shoulder. As I did so, I dropped all of my canvas shopping bags on the ground. I bent to pick them up and apologized as I was now blocking her exit from the cart storage area. She didn't make eye contact with me or say anything. She charged past me the moment I stood upright. I thought it was strange, but as my mother used to say- maybe she has places to go and people to see. 

I knew I needed quite a few things today but also that my focus would be on fresh produce and dairy items. I quickly filled my cart full of fruits and vegetables and headed towards the bread and bakery items.  I selected a bag of honey wheat bread for my family and proceeded towards the hamburger and hot dog buns. As I bend to select a bag of buns and pick it up, I also dropped them on the floor. I noticed the older woman watching me close by.

Scoffing, I bent over and laughed and said, "Goodness. Today I am dropping all of the bags."

The woman looked at me with utter disdain. As if she couldn't believe that I dropped the buns on the floor. I was so confused. All I did was make a little joke. She didn't say a word but her facial expression made me believe she was very upset that this even happened near her or that I said anything at all. I placed them in my cart and continued walking. As I walked down the aisle, I kept thinking about the fact that I had now spoken to this woman twice and she didn't feel the need to acknowledge my existence. I started thinking about all the reasons why she could have seemed so upset. I covered her with a whole lot of grace because maybe she had hearing loss like my husband. Maybe she didn't even know that I had been speaking to her and offering words of apology. Maybe her facial expressions had nothing to do with me. 

I have found myself, especially since Covid lock downs, being even more intentional than I normally am. Human touch points and interactions have become essential. I am very aware of many lonely people going through the motions and attempting to function in daily life, all while barely holding it together on the inside. So I continue being awkward yet intentional. Smiling longer than necessary, greeting others on the sidewalk, offering help when help hasn't been solicited, inserting myself where my presence hasn't been requested. 

This seemingly unhappy woman may have been fighting an uphill battle since her feet hit the floor this morning. While her apparent response to me wasn't ideal, it also says more about her than it ever will about me. She just needed my kindness to be displayed by walking away. I needed to re-frame my thoughts on kindness being displayed when it isn't acknowledged or even needed. 

I will probably drop more bags of buns and even my shopping bags in the future. I am a klutz at best, so it is more of a given than a probably. I will probably utter some ridiculous involuntary observation or platitude before I even realize that the words are leaving my lips. But I won't censor myself. Because those human touch points and weird connections at places such as the grocery are needed, are necessary and sometimes essential for others to keep going. 

Today I dropped bags. Tomorrow, I may trip on a curb. All I know is- it will be weird. Bring it on. 


Stills- a short story for Writers Unite!

   Stills By: Kelli J Gavin  I always said I wouldn't return. This small town was never home to me. I was here for such a short time, I ...