I really wasn’t expecting to meet the terror squad at Giant, of all places. I really wish I was talking about the rap group. That would have been a dream come true moment of spitting a rhyme and trying to shake my money maker.

But no, this terror is of the scary psychological kind. Yeah, I know. The worst kind. Besides, who in their right mind, would ever pick a GD grocery store to have a moment of terror hit them? Obvs, besides me. Oh, right. No one.

These things always start off so harmless, don’t they? Too innocent and unknowing. This drives me insane. Because I feel terribly unprepared, as though any moment could be the moment of my downfall. Even though I never really think about it till it happens, which has me feeling very betrayed.

As though The Universe could do me the favor of warning me. Some kind of heads up in advance. Is it really too much to ask for just a little consideration around here?!

The moment of decline today happened at the self checkout. Also: self checkouts are never a good place for a breakdown. Of any sort. Because there’s usually people waiting behind you in line. The last thing you want is to feel line pressure when you want to cry hysterically.

I only had five — five!– damn items to purchase. And I will blame the damn club card savings. It’s like passwords — WHY do we have to have a GD savings card for everything?! Can’t it just be discounted! Just once!

Anyway. For some crazy reason, I actually think to enter my old phone number. The one I had for 23 years. 23! I will never forget that number.

I enter: 703.430.2523

And @#$*&^%*()!

It took the number! My GD phone number still works. Even Maman wasn’t aware of that — though she did clue me in that it continues to work at Safeway. Someone, anyone! Please stop me from entering the premises of any Safeway. I am not safe there.

Something just snapped in me. I will never judge The People who lose it in an instant and go all certifiable. Look. The way I see it, that could be any of us at any point over any little thing. I have no place to judge anyone for losing their shit when I can’t even handle the fact that my old number works at Giant.

Because I love ya’ll and believe in the good and best in everyone and don’t think you’re going to go all crazy loco psychotic on me — that really is my real old home number. See. We have mutual trust, respect and support. We shall always support each other’s crazy.

I just … had this … couldn’t take it … knowing all this time has passed, all the years of using my 703, and here it is … still in use. Still working. As though no time had ever passed. Nothing had changed but yet everything has changed!

WHY do I grapple so much with change … with trying to accept the past with the present. It’s like I can’t allow them to peacefully co-exist. I want it one or the other.

On or off. Black or white. Right or left. These — I can make sense of. They fit.

Typing my card club savings number in at Giant, does not. It should have been deactivated. I don’t want it to still work. This feels like a loose end hanging out there. Tempting me in some weird way. Trying to lure me back to something that no longer exists.

It feels like some sadistic joke.

I stood there frozen when it took that number. When I heard that annoying automated voice say, welcome valued customer. Because what it was really saying was, welcome back to your former life and that happy childhood you had that is now all over and gone but you can stay and come see me and all it takes is 10 numbers to bring it all back.

It was the sound of the woman coughing behind me that forced me to snap the f out of it. I turned around, acutely aware of her waiting annoyance — that cough was the totally fake, I’ve been waiting here and am having to cough to make sure you remember I’m even here.

She didn’t get it when I said, sorry, it’s just that it took my phone number, my old home phone number from when I used to live here.

I know I shouldn’t put such expectations on People I don’t know. That they’ll understand me. Hell, I shouldn’t put these sorts of expectations on anyone … maybe no one will get this.

I guess I’m still trying to make sense of home, of here and Ohio. And how it all fits or doesn’t fit. Even though … I know that it’s not about it all “fitting”.

This is about me and acceptance. Not a fake, half assed acceptance. A true acceptance and honoring of where I’m at, embracing that as fully as I can and honoring what was. Which will always be a part of me.

No matter where I am. Even 703.430.2523.