Feeling like a local

After we had our supper tonight (the meatloaf was a hit!), we realised that we hadn't done anything for dessert. Chris suggested that we pick up a bit of ice cream. As I had been cooped up inside all day, I immediately volunteered to walk to the corner grocery store to buy ice cream.

I put on my hikers and grabbed my purse. It's funny remembering what this city looked like to me, two years ago. Everything was so new and different. The Safeway didn't look like the Safeway back home. There were all these little shops and expensive food. If you looked to the horizon, you could see mountains. Now, I have to stop and remember to look around at the flowers and the mountains.

As I approached the string of shops, I started looking in the windows to see what had changed recently. I noticed that my cheese shop is no longer open on Sundays, and made a note to myself to stop in and visit sometime. I looked at the new Hothouse Pizza, mourning the loss of that quaint old British pie shop that used to be there. I regretted having never tried a "Melton Mowbray Meat Pie," having opted for a chicken pie or dessert each time. The corner store is now familiar, and always cheers me up. Last year, the meat slicer bought the store, after years of saving and strategising. He is so happy about it, and is always bouncing around, offering to help people. He painted the shop yellow and changed its name, and that always makes me smile.

As I paid for my mint chocolate chip ice cream, I made small talk with the cashier about my dessert and the evening. I noted that she seemed new, that the woman who usually asked Chris and me about our meal plans wasn't around.

As I walked home, carrying my bag and watching the traffic speed by, I smiled. Every time I go to these small shops I feel like a local.