By Kelly Keene

“It’s kind of fun doing this in the rain” she said, handing off a red and white bag to the boy as he wiped his shaggy hair out of his eyes. 

“Yeah it is,” he smiled up at the dripping sky, “Although I feel kinda bad when I hand people their order, and it’s all wet.” She giggled at him.

Target has a cheerfulness to it just before Christmas. On December 23, 2021, it bustled with a new kind of energy. People may have been muffled by masks and dampened by heavy rain that year, but they had not celebrated Christmas properly in a while and wanted to make up for lost time. Vaccines set us free, and most stores had accommodated all kinds of shoppers. From no-touch delivery, to curbside pick up, we were all doing our best. The parking lot had less angry horns, and more friendly patient waves. 

I was there with a list of my own. Goggles for my mom and undershirts for dad. But it was impossible to walk through Target in a straight line. First, I perused the dollar section right up front. Scented candles and red checkered dish towels caught my eye, but I resisted the temptation. 

Next, I wandered through the baby section, pausing briefly to look at the adorable onesies but couldn’t think of an excuse to stay long, or add any to my cart just yet. I had less restraint when I passed through the woman’s clearance rack. There were too many cute leggings my size at 30% off. 

At this point, I became more aware and grateful to be there. Busy parents got out of the house for an hour or so to grab stocking-stuffers. Adult sons lingered in electronics to check out the newest headphones or cordless charging ports they’d only ever read about online. And when I listened carefully, spinning the jewelry display, I could hear other customers humming along to the festive tunes that came through the store speakers. 

When I did make it to the sports section, my cart was a bit full already, and I couldn’t find the goggles. I settled for a foam roller instead, and a kickboard. Once I had the kickboard, I sprung for the fins too, cause why not? Mom had been more than generous with me this past year and deserved as much swim gear as she could possibly want.

At the checkout aisle I chose a cashier wearing elf ears instead of the self check out station I normally went through. She smiled at me with every barcode beep that ran between her snow-flaked fingernails. I asked her how her shift was going, and she smiled with genuine cheer. When the automatic doors welcomed me back into the rain, I placed one foot on the back of my cart, and pushed off once, twice, then three times. I rode the slight slope down my row all the way to the car. Water droplets covered my windshield, and I couldn’t help but think that my little red car felt a little more like a sleigh with packages tucked safely in the trunk. 

Now, it’s December 27th. The extended family drove back home, and the ornaments are already packed away. New years goals are taking shape, and I am here. Back at Target. In the returns line. I have two possible gift receipts in my hand, and a box of sheets under my arm. This is the last errand I promised my mom I’d run for her before driving back to my own home two hours away. 

Target’s charm just didn’t last after the 25th. I don’t know where the shaggy wet boy went or the manicured elf, but the person behind the counter ahead had empty eyes and a slump to their shoulders. The Christmas music was gone, and a quiet frustration now buzzed in my ears. That, and the sound of a crying baby. 

You cannot talk in a line like this. There really isn’t any need to. Everyone feels the same way. No one wants to be there, and we resent each other for making the process all the more miserable. There are too many bodies, too many rejected items, and too few employees there to help get it over with. As the man in front of me finally accepted store credit, I shuffled forward and thought, “what a difference just a few days can make.”