Reflections of a Dollar General Shopper

Making my way through the Dollar General hoping to get an economy pack of Thank You cards to send out to all the people who had just given me expensive gifts (Not really; I was there for cheap cosmetics), All I could smell was that discount store smell I can’t pin down, but if I had to describe it, I’d say it’s the smell of spilled Prell baked on raw plastic packaging and industrial strength Irish Spring spread all over the place to repel insects and people with disposable incomes I heard Elton John in the background, and it was the same song I heard as a nearsighted but proud third-grader at Kmart with proud young parents doing their best, too, as they had me try on all the reading glasses on the spinning rack, hoping one of them would be an affordable solution to a suspected vision problem, but none of them were going to help me read writing on a board more than a few feet ahead of me. But it was fine; for now, everything’s fine. My grades are good, and everything’s fine for now. Prescriptions can wait a few years for now. I can only see what’s right in front of me, and it’s fine for now. Now here I am thirty years later at Dollar General under the same overhead music and florescent lights, and the same smell that I can’t positively identify. These discount places all seem to smell the same and I can’t explain it, but maybe it’s in my mind the way it clings to my clothes and hair almost as bad as cigarette smoke And as stuck as that smell gets in my clothes, so I’m stuck in this place as a ghost wishing to move on, but trying to save money on scar concealers, ignoring pains in my jaws and sides and back, So I’m back, and still not sure what that smell is exactly And all there is to do is be glad that for now, everything is fine. I can see what’s right smack in front of me just fine, now, but I ignore the distance as I did then, saying it’s just fine, still believing I have a chance to escape and move on to someplace better, if only in my mind. Gratefully I’ll head home with my discount concealer and change, and like that nearsighted girl, see nothing far ahead. Everything’s fine today. The smell of rain will send that discount store smell away with the breeze for now. Tomorrow will soon be today, and as long as today is fine, it’s fine for now.