The wildest thing just happened at Shaw’s Supermarket in Medford this afternoon. Well, it actually started
a couple of days ago …
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| Has that house changed! |
I was running errands for my mom in Quincy, and Agent 96 was in
the car with me. We were in Wollaston, and in no rush, so I took a detour down to 122 Taylor Street.
I digress, though. My story has nothing to do with Taylor
Street.
Driving through the old neighborhood, I pointed out to
96 some different houses that I know he didn’t care one whit about, but it was
conversation, and that’s better than no conversation. So I pointed out Auntie Jeanne’s
friend Corinne’s house. Corinne got into wicked trouble -- like, grounded-for-the-rest-of-the-school-year-trouble -- for hitting me with a rock once. I don’t recall any of the details; but I’d place money on me
being a pain in the neck to them, and I probably wailed, offended that she actually got me, and it's more than likely I thumbed my nose at her when she got in trouble for it.
Yeah, I’m still digressing, sorry. There was Carolyn’s house
(hi, Carolyn!); and the house where I used to babysit; and there on Safford Street, I pointed
out to 96 where my childhood friend, Linda Simpson, lived. I probably hadn’t thought of this person in
forty years. We were friends in junior high school; it might even have been elementary school.
So I’m my own grocery store, in Medford, earlier today,
picking up the cat food I didn’t have in the house to feed the cats this
morning. I load my 48 cans onto the conveyor belt and glance at the person in line in front of me.
It. Can’t. Be.
I thought to myself that I must be imagining the resemblance, only because I had just spoken of her after so long. But this woman looked so much like her I literally did a
double take. Before she left the register, I had to ask. “Your first name
wouldn’t be ‘Linda’ by any chance, would it?” I asked, with some hesitation and
more than a dash of embarrassment. Surprised, she acknowledged that yes,
indeed, she is one of us. “Simpson?” I continued. Her jaw dropped, and she replied, "It used to be ... but ..." and I identified myself
to her. I'm pretty sure I saw a flash of worry across her face when I then blurted out, “...and I just
drove by your house the other day!” But I was quick to explain my story, and I
don’t think any TROs will be forthcoming.
But holy heck, really, that was some wild thing that
happened at Shaws’s today!
