Back in 20 minutes

There is nothing more human, more enchanting, or more freeing than the shopkeeper’s sign hanging from the window. O to be the shopkeeper, keeping time and life to one’s self.

Welcome to Magdelana’s Mini Mart, where you can just run in for a second to get what you need. Or you can stay awhile. Walk on the crickety wooden floorboards over to the French-milled soap. Pick up a pickle from the barrel for a quarter. Fill a bag of penny candy that really costs a penny. From the grandiose Wall Drug in South Dakota to the New Enlgand ye old general store to Kansas City’s corner mini mart, there’s something amazing about having sundries at the ready. I’m partial to the general stores with the one box of bleach that’s been there for three years just in case while camping somebody decides, Bleach! Of course!!

Truth is, if souls are housed as some say, this may be where I reside (mind you, I also feel this way of churches, I once walked into an empty church that was under construction in Aix en Provence and swore I had just entered my still-unknown future husband’s soul). Far from pedestrian, these shops are where people get what they need, what they don’t need, find clever trinkets never seen before, drink in the histories of place, and breathe the essences of hard work, tradition, and most of all love, the most important stock on the shelf.

I’ve decided to become a shopkeeper. Whatever you need, I’m just grateful you stopped by.

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