Reenactment Part II

I know the title isn't the same as the day before, but whatever. It's a two-parter regardless. I'm not sure of the legality of posting a picture of the outside of a store, but I'm solely posting it as a means of photographically documenting my life and not to make a quick buck. As I mentioned in the last post, I worked at Borders when I first moved to Northern Virginia to live with my [now] husband. So to finish recreating the day that my husband proposed, we came back to Borders the following morning, as they closed earlier than we'd anticipated the night before.

I didn't mind the wait. Prior to getting there, we stopped at Panera to get my caffeine fix, so I had that to keep me occupied. That, and there was an adorable little boy, maybe two years old, standing there with his father. He found everything within sight to be absolutely entertaining. Windows. People. Floor. Very zen. I envy that in children. They find wonder in everything, as cliche of a statement as that is. He saw a sticker stuck to the floor and began picking at it. To him, he doesn't see a piece of trash that countless strangers have walked on, after walking on who knows what, who knows where, for who knows how long. He just sees a sticker. That's admirable.

The doors opened. I pointed towards the "new book" section near the entrance and said, "And here is where [long-time friend] said hello to Dick Cheney." We took a few steps forward, and I added, "And here is where secret service dragged her away from Dick Cheney." My husband and I were then magnetized to the psychology section for a bit, as we are those kind of people. He eventually migrated to the comics section upstairs, as he's also that kind of person. I found my way to the religious corner neighboring the psychology section, where I sat and read about Buddhist principles. It dawned on me that that's the kind of mindset I've been striving for, only fleetingly achieving. Maybe that's how we all are. I felt very in-the-zone and wandered to the Seattle's Best coffee shop, which I noted before had closed down just a couple of days before our trip out there. So now standing in line for coffee for my husband to drop down on one knee like he did four years ago.

Not that he was going to do that. Actually, I'm 100% sure he wasn't going to do that. We talked about it and determined that it'd be silly to do if he didn't have another ring to give me. And I really don't care much about rings.

To commemorate the occasion, I took out my camera and began taking photos of the now barren counter. I was there when Cafe Borders became a Seattle's Best. I was part of the first crew trained (I believe there were six of us, which was the absolute minimum you could have for a team. I want to say we scrambled for enough people and managed to do so at the last minute). I was one of two who did the first closing shift (I'd say names to make that phrasing less awkward, but I'm trying to keep this journal nameless, apart from naming my cats...), which took an extra two hours for us to accomplish, as neither of us had done the full closing procedure during our training but had done the same parts over and over again. We sang with the tongula, and we spoke of it and the Javakulas we created in a Dracula voice (get it? -ula?). Random silliness came to mind. And of course, then the night my husband proposed while we stood in line a month after I'd quit the cafe.

A fella working at the store walked up to me and politely informed me that unfortunately, they are not allowing customers to take photographs in the store. I don't quite understand that rule, but I apologized. (I didn't realize they had the rule, since I was armed with my camera on almost a daily basis when I worked there, and the managers then didn't seem to have a problem with it. But I didn't see any familiar faces, so I understand the concept of "that was then, this is now.") I began deleting the few snapshots I took when immediately a woman working there asked me, "Can I help you?" in a tone that suggested she did not really mean to ask me that, but rather to inquire as to why I was holding a large camera in my hands (despite it being aimed downward in my bag). I politely replied, "Oh, he just told me that I can't take pictures here, so I'm just deleting them." Ya know, trying to save her a moment. Instead, she just got angrier. "Why were you even taking pictures in the first place??" "I used to work here." "Well, you can't take pictures here!"

I was out of the zone. I have not yet achieved enlightenment apparently. I fumed about that silently for a few moments, wavering between being angry and sad, and then I found my husband, ranted a bit, and then I found a silly book and forgot my anger.

Then we had an early lunch at the Chipotle at the mall, as my husband has longingly missed that place. Then we were on the road back home.

All in all, a good trip.