When I was a little girl and wandered away from my mother in the supermarket, she usually didn’t panic about it. After the first few times, she knew where to find me, so she often let me go my own way for at least a few minutes before she came to collect me.
I was always in the stationery aisle.
I wasn’t there because I needed anything specific for school. Most of the time, I didn’t even ask to buy anything. I just liked looking at the notebooks, picking them up to run my hand over the blank pages, turning to the middle and taking a nice deep whiff of the paper right near the binding. I sifted through the folders and checked for any loose pens that I could possibly test. I didn’t realize it at the time, but what I loved about the stationery aisle was all of the potential in that blank paper and unopened glue bottles and unsharpened pencils. Continue reading