Nothing Unusual Here
It’s Friday night and I’m in a big-box store within a small city in Southern Kentucky, not far from the Tennessee border. The store is brighter than a sunny winter day. The aisles are crowded and people swarm in all departments, while associates in yellow smocks direct traffic, stock shelves, and offer cheerful banter while bagging bulky bargains. There’s nothing unusual here. Still it only makes sense in the context of time and space, and most importantly, in the context of my life and what I’m doing. Friday night, big-box store, bright lights, lots of people: a time, a place, a feeling, this memory.
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