Postscript from Costco

When my father died somewhat unexpectedly about 10 years ago, my siblings and I were very grieved.  And then I started to notice something weird.  Everywhere I went, I saw someone who looked like my Dad.  I mean same baseball cap, jacket, jeans, glasses, gray hair.  On a few occasions I had to stop myself at the last minute from actually going up to the stranger and talking to him.

When I told my sister, she confirmed that this was happening to her as well.  We figured it was Dad's way of saying that he was alright and we shouldn't be sad anymore.  It hasn't happened in a long time.  Except for the few hours I was at Costco.

There he was - a man who looked just like my Dad.  And even more creepier, he kept staring at me.  Everywhere I went, I would see him inside the store, and we're talking about a big store.  I wonder what the message is this time?

Take Me Home

I stopped by the homeless shelter on Thursday to wrap up my 10 weeks of employment there and to say goodbye.  It was a labor of love but very work intensive. I don't have the time, or the brain matter to go anymore because I need to concentrate on other projects.

One of the things I love about the shelter is that it's right next door to Costco.  I've never been to Costco on my own, you see, and when I tried to get my husband to go with me this time, he told me to take my own card and go by myself.  Think mother bird pushing her baby out of the nest.  Think Nana out of control at the happiest place on earth.

For once I finally understood my husband - in terms of why he likes to fly solo at Costco.  It's a much more intense experience on all the senses - sight, hearing, taste, touch and smell.  I just love it.  Walked up and down each aisle, thing how many calories I was burning and how much good stuff I need to figure out to fit in my house.

I went there for two things, left with about 20, which is about right.  While it's not the kind of store you can visit every day, I know I'll be back.  Thank you G-d, for giving someone else the wisdom to make that store, and me the ability to buy stuff.