A Glimpse into My Future
by Susan Steen
I went shopping
yesterday at the Round Rock outlet stores. Now I know this would
be torture for some of you, but for those of you that don't
know—I am a shopper. I love to shop for shoes, clothes, bathroom
towels, scented soaps, socks, toaster ovens, you name it—I love
to shop for it. I am one of those crazy women that is up at 4:30
a.m. the day after Thanksgiving to be at JCPennys for their door
buster sales and I fully support any legislative bill that would
deem "Black Friday" a national holiday. My love for shopping is
not just a hobby, but a passion and something I would be proud
to list on my resume when applying for a job. I love to shop,
period.
Yesterday
at the outlet mall, I had a moment in which I was able to see
into the future and I think I may have scared myself. It was the
tax-free weekend here in Texas, again I could support that being
a national holiday, and the mall was packed. But unlike shopping
during the holidays when the malls are just full of people,
yesterday was packed with families shopping for their children,
something I've never been able to do.
Kids were
everywhere, crying babies abounded, three-year-old children
screaming to go on the motorized pony one more time, and I was
constantly dodging and weaving strollers. Single strollers,
double side-by-side strollers, umbrella strollers...I had never
seen so many strollers in my life. And it dawned on me as I
tried to weave my way through the Tommy Hilfiger store and I
watched these families try to squeeze double strollers through
the aisles that having children puts a serious crimp on
shopping. It suddenly became clear to me that in only a few
months I'm going to be one of those tired, glassy-eyed women
that I saw yesterday trying to get their children to hold on for
one more store so they could finish their shopping.
Then it happened, my
saving grace in a pair of pink Crocs...a little girl with a
bouncing ponytail who looked about three-years-old yelling for
her mama to come look at all the pretty jewelry. Every time her
mother would pull another pair of earrings off the rack the
little girl would ooh and aah and clap her hands at how pretty
they were. She cheered for necklaces and headbands and told her
mother the pink flowered belt she saw hanging up would "match my
Crocs perfectly".
I realized that
maybe, just maybe, God would give me a little pint sized shopper
who I could pass along my passion for shopping, like Yoda to a
young Jedi, and I would have someone to second my motion
enacting "Black Friday" as a nationally observed holiday,
someone to agree with me that if done correctly, white shoes
past Labor Day are okay, and someone to cheer and clap over her
new pretty earrings that match her pink Crocs "perfectly".
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