Right outside the entrance, an older woman’s paper bag breaks. Groceries spill out, bouncing and rolling on the concrete. Setting my bags down, I crouch and help her chase the runaway items. Shoppers hurry past us, escaping the cold, Pacific Northwest rain. We laugh as she holds up a bottle in triumph. “We saved the wine!” My heart twists with homesickness when I hear the familiar Southern lilt in her voice. “Can I give a hug?” she asks. Behind us, the automatic door swishes open and shut as I step into her warm embrace. For a moment, I am home.
Tiffany Doerr Guerzon is an essayist. writing instructor, and artist. Her work can be found at authory.com/TiffanyDoerrGuerzon.