Crying in the Walmart Parking Lot

bekah General 4 Comments

I cried in the Walmart parking lot.

I cried because there are moments I still feel so damn new in this place.

I cried because I’d been on the phone for hours trying to find a local doctor for our family and the earliest appointment is April. April, people.

I cried because I’m PMSing and desperately need In N Out in my face.

I cried because I want to open every door and window and let the breeze shimmy through without bugs following.

I cried because I want a soul friend at breakfast and the weight of finances not to wake me from sleep.

We came here to TN because we felt stirred. Stirred to space and green. We came to get back on our feet. To find financial stability and maybe save up to buy a home. To feel like we can breathe easier. It’s been almost a year since my hubby started looking for a job in Nashville. It’s taking longer, money is slim, and birthdays and holidays are coming. I could scream at how uncomfortable all this is.

Perhaps I’ll get a job at Walmart.

Puzzles, they take time to build.

Into Walmart I walked, still unshowered after a drip session of kickboxing yoga (yes it goes together) and took my dear sweet time strolling the aisles, throwing a bag of kale, bagels, KIND bars of course, into the cart and found myself in the paint aisle, a tiny version of home depot’s situation, color swatches and all. Rainbow shades beckoned and immediately my eye went to a slate gray. Like the color of a storm. Similar the the storm that churned inside my PMSy body at the moment.

I feel gray.

And then something shifted.

But I don’t have to.

What color do I want to choose? What if I choose to decide today feels like home even if not completely?

 

I reached for a persimmon orange. If only there was a copper.

On the bottom of the paint swatch, a vibrant shade read Old Copper Kettle.

It’s okay that some days don’t feel like home. I wonder if you can live somewhere your entire life and never truly feel at home.

Maybe that’s the magic. For the days that feel gray we choose a piece of home. We choose a different color. We choose to cry and let it all out and then we walk through a store and follow where we feel led.

Around the bananas, past the deli section, pause in front of the bubble baths and lotions, put a sketch pad and pencils in the cart.

And then to a corner hole-in-the-wall Mexican spot for carnitas tacos with extra guacamole and a giant root bear. Because nothing says CA like Mexican food.

Takeout in hand, I raised my cup to the CA bear flag hanging on the wall.
Home is everywhere.

And then, and I’m not even sure what prompted me, I asked the guys at the front, the ones who moved from San Diego to start an authentic Mexican place in the heart of Spring Hill, TN, You guys ever miss CA?

Every day. But I like it here too. Check this out. Look what a customer brought me this afternoon. He rummages through the trash and pulls out an In N Out bag. She took a 3 hour plane and brought this straight over. Figured I needed some In N Out in my life every now and then.

Comments 4

  1. Thank you. I can totally relate. My hubby & I moved to the midwest from California over seven years ago. We still miss it like crazy. Especially sunshine and palm trees. Thank you for the reminder…I can choose what color I feel today!

    1. Post
      Author

      Pam, there are those days. And for those days, I hope you find the perfect color to lift your spirits. Journeying with you. xx, Bekah

  2. I feeeeeeeeel this. The finding a doctor (I’ve found them but didn’t like them and am back to the search), the missing In N Out, the wanting friends that just know from years of being around, the wanting to have the door open without bugs getting through the screen. Being able to drive up and down one stretch of coast watching the waves (probably with that In N Out in my lap… This place is wonderful and beautiful. Home was also wonderful and beautiful. I’m going to have to get the name of that little hole in the wall mexican shop, Oscar’s in Nolensville is the best I’ve found out here so far.

    1. Post
      Author

      Corey, “this place is wonderful and beautiful. Home was also wonderful and beautiful.” It’s here we hold the tension of old home and new home. Together. And you are doing that beautifully. Grace upon grace. Caliburrito in Spring Hill may be just what you need. See you there!

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