Halfway There

He sought me out in the canned cranberry and yam aisle.

A more boring aisle is hard to find – maybe the miscellaneous tool aisle.

Extras, on the side – but nothing main dish or savory…

I was stuck there, contemplating.

I didn’t want to buy any, but the association of Thanksgiving and Christmas with the Matriarch’s family cheer called me back to those many years.

Like a vestigial limb, I still received the seasonal impulses that my help was needed for ensuring everything was prepared.

That he would seek me out there seemed odd to me, and I would say in preference that it wasn’t my best timing.

I looked at him blankly, lost in reverie, not seeing him clearly and feeling just hollow: empty.

I had no facade to offer, no cheerful smile – and yet still, he wanted me.