It’s a “misting” day. Not wet enough for an umbrella, but enough to use your windshield wipers. It’s the kind of day where the clouds and the gray never break, the sun never really rises, and you never fully wake up. Which is fine by me: I work third shift on Fridays, and plan to have a long and restful sleep on this lazy gray day.

I leave work at 7, wrap my coat tightly around me, and trudge to my car. Normally I’d drive straight home, but today I’ve got to stop at the grocery store for a couple items. Not our regular store, though…

Our “old” store, the one we used to go to.

Because our “new” store, for all its wonders, carries neither Instant Breakfast nor sugar-free angel food cake.

I pull into a spot right up front. No one’s here, but who would be? So early on a rainy Saturday… It’s a Sleeping-In day. It’s when I’m hovering between sleep and awake that I am at my most introspective, and rainy days are a perfect muse.

I don’t know how or when the transition from old to new occurred. We just started buying more and more at the new store, and only going to the old one for a few items here and there. Then we stopped going, almost entirely. The old store no longer represented the crunchy-granola-organic-low carb people we had become.

The old-store-employees glance up as the automatic doors whoosh me in. They don’t have the embroidered polo shirts like the new-store-employees do. They still wear white collared shirts and maroon jackets and lapel pins with their names. Like they would have worn 50 years ago, only without the bow ties.

I can’t seem to find the Instant Breakfast, and try to think of where it would logically be: With breakfast? Or chocolate syrup and hot cocoa? I wander up and down the rows, the  cat-and-dog-food-breakfast-cereal-macaroni-rice-raisins-seasonings-spreads-spaghetti-soft drinks- crackers-and-cookies aisles (with a nod to Professor Dorney and John Updike).

Mama Rosa’s Cheese Ravioli: 88¢. Mars Bars singles: 3 for $1.

The store has not changed. Nothing has changed. The displays, the signs, everything is just as it was 10 and 15 years ago. I went down these aisles with mom after school, bouncing from one tile to the next (don’t touch the orange! don’t step on the cracks!), in my school uniform and squeaky shoes. Dad and I would go shopping and have fun spending too much on Twizzlers and soda, discussing things like the proper way to chew gum…

I honestly never thought that you could have so many memories and emotions tied into a grocery store. Tired (and hormonal) I wanted to laugh and cry at once. Here I practiced pushing a cart, dropped a jar of jelly, bought ingredients for meals that I planned out all myself, learned about coupons and unit prices.

It’s 7 am on a rainy Saturday morning, and I’m reminiscing in a grocery store.

I find the Instant Breakfast (breakfast aisle ), grab the angel food cake, and make my way to the only open check-out line. As I grab the bag and head out, I pass the 30¢ soda machine. (can I have thirty-cents, mom, please?)

But it’s time for me to go home, tuck into bed, and later – perhaps – contemplate doing homework…