My childhood grocery store
looms legendary
It had an enormous step on scale
a dull light green
with a long old-timey pointer
aiming accusingly at oversized
too high numbers
by 11 years old
scales were scary
My childhood grocery store,
Publix,
had a big deli counter
we got some of our deli meats there,
though for our Friday night deli dinners,
-a nod to our diluted version of Judaism-
we usually sourced from Sam & Carl’s
who had the requisite pastrami
and real corned beef
(none of that thin and wet stuff)
Publix had a pleasant, distinctive aroma
I can no longer summon
I just know it was there,
along with trays of two green peppers wrapped in plastic
and Elton John on the cover of a new magazine called People,
when I was 14.
Publix had glaring Miami sunshine
when you stepped outside
an attendant who would load your groceries into your car
for those who so desired
My mother, the queen, desired,
considered it her right in fact
as a beautiful woman,
married to a doctor
in the 1960’s.
Even if I had a broken arm,
I’d decline such a service
I can load my own damn groceries,
I can do everything myself,
as an often-single adult
on a careful budget
I’ve had to
One day when mom and I exited Publix,
she took my hand
because we loved each other.
My friend Nancy observed it
from across the parking lot
a potentially dangerous encounter
Since I was a friend
I was let off easy,
but later her tone told me
it was time to surrender such comforts.
We were, after all,
halfway through sixth grade.
I’m good at surrendering comforts,
doing without what I want
and need (do I even know the difference anymore)?
I yearn stupidly for Publix
with its distinctive aroma
I wonder if the scale is still there
if the store is still there
It’s been decades
somehow, I never make it home
My bright glaring sunshine
is now in Arizona
minus the humidity
minus the Friday nights
of deli dinners
and The Partridge Family
minus my loving mother
and minus the Publix
with its forgotten comforting aroma
from a time
of almost no yearning at all.
Outstanding piece of writing Pinkdreams. I never walked into a Publix, since there not located in the NY tri-state area. Your memories and description of this store is unbelievable. The poem was done so well that as I began reading it, I knew and felt we were in the early to mid 70’s. The photo is also an extra bonus. As we get older, certain places and landmarks disappear. Our memories may fade a bit as well. At the same time, a certain item or smell may bring us back and reboot memories that were stuck somewhere in our brains decades ago. Nice work.
VoI- Thank you so much for understanding, and for the nice praise. It means a lot to me.
I enjoy poems or stories from people that can tap into their memories and write a compelling, nostalgic piece for that moment in time. You totally succeeded here.
I’m so giddy that you posted, lol.
First of all, my condolences for the loss of your mother. I’d like to think that I offered my condolences on DUP, but I was a wreck then and my attention was elsewhere.
Secondly, your storytelling is sublime. I’ve missed that and you!
There’s nothing wrong with holding your mother’s hand out of love, but leave it to someone else – peer pressure – to make us feel shame for something like that.
Never been to a Publix, I live in the Northeast. We have snow, lol. No relation to a grocery store or any of what’s in your poem, but the weather just changed and that’s all I’ve got on my mind at the moment.
Rock on, Pink.
So good to hear from you. I think you did offer condolences back then, so thank you then and now.
Why did I think you lived in Texas? I’m so envious of those experiencing Fall and cold weather. 91 this afternoon in Phoenix. Stupid.