Color of the Winds

This idea is stolen from a friend also named Tyler. Y’all should follow him because his pictorial stories are awesome. http://tylerawilson.tumblr.com/

Rather than going to Kroger’s or Walmart, my mother always shops at Remke’s. It is family owned and operated (although they recently bought out Bigg’s?) and therefore, prices are usually a dollar higher than usual. When buying for a family of four, it wasn’t unusual for Mom to spend $250 every two weeks when we went grocery shopping. 

Sometimes I would entertain myself during this hour-long hunt for groceries by making a “throne” out of canned goods in the cart and then sit on it. Or I would try all the free samples multiple times. Or I would steal the meat slaughter queue numbers and hide in an aisle and laugh while the butcher would call “49….49… NUMBER 49……50…50… NUMBER 50….” and this would go on for awhile as I would steal ten numbers at once.

However, my absolute favorite thing to do would be playing with the vegetable sprinklers. I would see how wet I could get my hair every thirty minutes when it started “storming.”

Still to this day, if I am browsing a grocery market and hear the tell-tale “krshshhhh” simulated thunderstorm noises, I try to make my way over to the produce aisle as quickly as possible so I can stick my hand under the mist. 

However, one day while I was terrorizing the store, I lost track of my beloved mother! I searched in the frozen food aisles, the butchery, the bakery section - she was no where to be found. 

I finally gathered the courage to approach the front desk that also doubled as the lottery ticked dispensary. 

Most people who worked at Remkes were either elderly women with various hairs growing from necks and fingers, or high school aged kids who hadn’t grown out of the “I don’t give a fuck!” stage. 

The woman actually made an announcement, "Would the parent of...Pocahontas Reeves... please come to the front desk?" My mom knew right away it was me due to my recent obsession with Pocahontas. She claimed me and later told the story to my grandma who said, "Oh dear, do you think people recognized him?! I'm going to have to explain this to my church group. What are they going to think?"

Every summer, my manager calls me "Poke" and, on moodier days, Sophia Loren.