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Well, that’s what I’m calling it anyhow. I bought a set of ten multi-sectioned containers, and then I cook a family size pack of meat. A couple of cans of vegetables are spread out evenly, and then I make either fried rice, cilantro lime rice, or some mashed potatoes, and put an even amount in one of the smaller sections. Fruit rounds out my meal, and I’ve been slowly increasing my water intake.
“I need to find somewhere I can take a yoga class, or maybe even swim laps,” I murmur as I look at the watermelons. Long ago, Grampy taught me how to pick a sweet one, so when I find two, I can’t help but giggle. “Looks like watermelon for breakfast.” I’ll cut them up, then divide the chunks into reasonable portions, which I often snack on between meals. This time, though, I’ll definitely be eating it with breakfast, which is fine because I totally enjoy it.
Once I have everything on my list, plus a few things that weren’t but when I saw them, I immediately wanted and tossed them into the cart, including some chocolate ice cream, I head to the checkout area where a friendly young girl checks me out.
“Oh, I love watermelon too,” she exclaims as she rings both of mine up. “I cut it all up and put it in a huge bowl, then eat it whenever.”
Grinning at her, I reply, “I do the same thing!”
“I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new to the area or just passing through?” she questions, her hands moving quickly to run my items over the scanner.
“Just passing through, although I won’t lie, it’s so beautiful here, I’d have no problems settling down,” I admit.
These past few days spent at Fred’s favorite spot have been relaxing, even more so than the time I stayed with Dr. Terry and his wife, Judith. The fresh mountain air, the lake; both have contributed to ease my battered spirit. In fact, since I reached out to Dr. Zack and Dr. Terry both, I plan to stay another week because they have a friend who has a vet clinic about five or so miles away, and it’s almost time to get Sassy’s cast off. Mine too, but I’ll worry about me after I’m sure she’s back to herself.
“I’ve lived here all my life,” the cashier says. “Went away for about six months for college, but it wasn’t for me, so I came back home and do my classes online now.”
“I miss my grandparents’ farm where I grew up,” I quietly reply. “But I had to get out of there.”
She looks at my cast and a sad expression crosses her face. “Maybe you’ll be able to go back at some point?” she asks.
“Once the trash has been removed,” I retort, which makes her giggle.
Leaning in, she whispers, “I can shoot a tick off a raccoon’s ass if you need any help.” Then, louder, since she’s got a line forming behind me now, she states, “That’ll be forty-five twenty-eight, unless you’ve got the savings card, then it’ll be less.”
“Glory, you know she’s an out-of-towner! Here, use my card so she gets the benefits,” a grumpy voice says from behind me.
Turning slightly, I see a woman who may possibly be older than dirt based on the wrinkles that cover her face, but I see kindness in her eyes despite her grumpy tone. “Thank you for that,” I tell her, smiling. “I should probably start signing up for these things so I can get the deals.”
“Honey, a penny saved is a penny earned,” the old crone replies. “You in that RV out there? The one with the pretty cat sunning itself on the dashboard?”
I start giggling when I visualize how Sassy must look to anyone passing by. “Yes, ma’am, that’s mine. The cat’s name is Sassy and I’ve had her since she was a tiny kitten.”
“She’s a beautiful cat. Now, Steven, you need to get this young lady bagged up so she can go take care of her fur baby.”
“Yes, Mrs. Casen,” the pimply-faced teenager croaks out while I hand the clerk, Glory, my money once she tells me the revised total.
Less than five minutes later, the bag boy has me all loaded up and is pushing my cart for me. As we approach my RV, I see that Sassy is indeed sunning herself on the dashboard, her tail lazily swishing back and forth.
Once I unlock the RV, Steven hands me the bags then lifts the case of bottled water and slides it onto the floor for me. When I go to hand him some money as a tip, he refuses, saying, “We’re not allowed to take tips, ma’am.”
“But you helped me bring my stuff out to my car!” I exclaim.
“It’s part of our service,” he replies. “Besides, you wouldn’t have been able to lift the water by yourself with your cast on.”
He’s right; I actually had to have another customer put it in my cart for me. I have one of those small, countertop ice makers, but because water is different everywhere and therefore, it tastes funny sometimes, I use bottled water to make the ice.
“Can I insist?” I ask.
“You can, but truly, we don’t accept tips from customers,” he reiterates, pulling the cart slightly back from my RV.
“Then thank you for all your help. I would’ve had to get the water out one or two bottles at a time,” I say, giggling at the picture which forms in my head.
He chuckles then waves. “I hope you enjoy your stay in our town. Some people don’t like the slower life, but it’s pretty nice.”
“So, you don’t plan to leave?” I inquire, shocked that a teenager would be okay staying in a small town.
“Maybe? I don’t really know. I’m up for a cross country scholarship, but if I left there’d be nobody to help my mama out.”
