At this contentious time, I think we can all agree on this: one-way aisles in stores are pointless. They only work if all shoppers move robotically at the same pace, six feet apart. Also, people ignore the arrows.
I compulsively follow the arrows. I am a rule follower who suffers a twinge of guilt if I go even halfway down an aisle the wrong way. Quickly, I pick up the item I need, turn around, and (phew!) I’m back on the straight and narrow. Wish I weren’t so lame.
And so I sighed with genuine relief when my Target removed the one-way arrows. Such a pleasant way to shop, not having to think about traffic laws.
The only one-way route that remains is just inside the store, a row of posts with retractable belts that keeps you from taking a right into the checkout area. Sure, it’s a longer route than my usual beeline back to the milk, but the upshot is that this new route sends me on a This-Is-Your-Life-type trip down Memory Lane. As Caroline turns twelve next week, I don’t mind these sweet reminders of her life.
Like a sheep being led away from COVID, I follow the aisle that leads to the back of the store. The first stop on Memory Lane is the maternity section, where I went hog wild buying cute tops for my enormous belly full o’ Caroline.
I round the corner, and there’s the diaper aisle where I once discovered a coupon for a $20 Target gift card with the purchase of two Pampers and felt like I’d won the lottery. It’s the little things.
Just down the way are the toy aisles, where I’ve stood for hours so Caroline could look at Shopkins, Disney princess accessories, and Lego Friends sets. My eyes would glaze over as she begged for each toy.
Just past the toys is the seasonal aisle where Caroline got her summertime wish: a bright yellow Slip-and-Slide, perfect for making a fearsome mud hole in the backyard. In the same aisle, different day, I picked up a pair of matching Razor scooters so we could ride around the neighborhood together. Not too long after, I flew over the handlebars and might have lost my front teeth but for the grace of God. Six years later, she still loves the scooter; I prefer my teeth.
Rounding the corner into grocery items, I pass by the fruit snacks that she loved for years and then, suddenly, hated. A few aisles over are the Eggo waffles, Caroline’s breakfast choice from early age to present day.
And it was just steps away in the pet department that I found myself staring at a vast array of cat litter, unsure of what to buy having never, ever considered getting a cat. But little girls will do that to you: wear you down with begging until you are weighing features like absorbency, odor control, and whether you can actually lift the litter into the cart.
Because of COVID, we haven’t been to Target together in several months, but I have a feeling the makeup aisle will be her next destination.
It may be materialistic that my stations of the cross of motherhood are located throughout the nearest Target, but such is life. In spite of COVID, we’ll celebrate our daughter’s birthday, along with the fact that she’s outgrown Pampers, Shopkins, and fruity snacks in squeezy pouches.
And for now, I’ll follow the rules and enjoy the walk down Memory Lane, albeit longer and indirect, every time I run out for a gallon of milk.
-Em : )