Last night at Walmart I spent a boatload of money. Ugh. I hate that. But Lexi’s candy-themed birthday party is this weekend so we grabbed a bunch candy 50% off and then both girls needed new book bags because the ones they’ve been using just haven’t worked out. And then I went ahead and bought her gifts and all the paper products and the cookie cake I need to serve at her school lunch today. You know how it goes there.
While we were at the customer service counter before we picked out all this, trying to return a toy we didn’t use as a gift, I heard it. That western PA/MD accent that I can pick out of any crowd because every single one of extended family members speaks with it. I hear it and it transforms me to my roots, all the way from the Carolina blue skies to the Appalachian mountains where I lived just until 3 and where we return as often as we can.
She confirmed she was from Pittsburgh and we laughed an understanding laugh about the accent, how we both can pick it out from a crowd. We talked about the county where my grandmother lives, closest to Pittsburgh and she knew someone that worked there with my mother’s maiden name. That never happens here, away from my roots.
As we connected, we were in our own little world. It wasn’t two strangers over a Walmart customer service counter, it was somehow family, a knowing, a trust because even in a small way our roots were connected.
I often hope it’s the same when I meet the One in whom I am rooted. A knowing. A trust. Family.
Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.