Send help. I walked into Wal Mart again .

Send help. I walked into Wal Mart again .

An abusive relationship is one that keeps pulling you back in time and time again. It looks appealing from the outside, but once you’re in it you see it’s dangerous fruits of evil and marked down blue light specials. Rows and rows of un showered people and high fructose corn syrup filled cereals.

It’s then you realize you’re there. You grabbed your cart unknowingly and unwillingly into Wal Mart. Again.


Yesterday it was clear no one had power back on yet. You could smell it. I needed two things. Milk and noodles. If I wasn’t careful I would come away with 17 items. Walking in trying not to make eye contact with anyone a man in striped pajama pants pursued me.

” those kids sure are gorgeous. All blonde hair blue eyed like their momma.”

” thank you sir.”

” Momma, that man is smiling at you still. He’s following you.”

My sweet protective Asher. He’s like my own personal chiwawa. If only he could bark at smelly old men hitting on his momma. But no time to think of such things, he was still behind me. Smiling.

I walked faster down into the frozen aisle. There was no milk or noodles but suddenly the ice cream looked appealing.

SEE? This is what Wal mart does to a woman . Sends in nasty men to harass you, and you end up buying cookie dough ice cream and extra body wash to wash away the eyes piercing through your yoga pants.

” He’s gone momma. You’re fast.”

Thanks son. Those whole 2 weeks of running track in high school until I was cut from the team for skipping practices three days in a row paid off. I knew it was good for something.

Onto the next aisle, I had to hurry or my ice cream would melt. Here comes an elderly lady, bless her heart. What she says next made me want to go redneck on her.

Touching Adahs feet. TOUCHING them. ( I cannot stand when strangers touch my children. Makes me want to rub their face.)

” You can’t be the mother of all three of these children. Surely not. You look like you’re twelve. And where are her socks!?”


I bit my tongue. Swallowed. Imagined every possible smart comment I could say, but somehow Jesus spoke, silenced my angry voice.

” oh yes ma’am. I started young. 13 to be exact. This one here, Brutis .. He’s 5. His daddy I met in the Burger King bathroom stall. It was love at first flush. Oh, and this one here, her names Daisy. I named her daisy after the first flower her daddy gave me right after I gave birth to her older brother. She was conceived a few days later, her daddy is the first ones brother. Thought I’d keep it in the fam. You know to be respectful and all. And the youngest . I haven’t named her yet. I wanted to name her after her daddy but I can’t get ahold of him to ask him his name. He keeps on hanging up when I call and he has a pretty hefty alarm system at his house.”

I wanted to so so bad. But I said.

” Yes they’re all mine. All three. It must be the braids in my hair today. They make me look younger. It’s 71 degrees outside. She isn’t cold. You must remember when your children kicked their socks off in the car.”

” oh no. I was always sure to keep them on.”

You mean when they were rolling around in the backseat while you had a cigarette? Oh then. Ok.

Rolling away I saw creepy PJ pants man. He had in his hand three cartons of ice cream.


He knows what he drove me to do.

I grabbed the milk. The noodles. The wine.

The wine wasn’t on the list, but my names Rachel. Have we met?

Checking out I had visions of what Target would have been like. Glorious red all around. Redemption red. Classy clearance racks and rows and rows of Lara Bars.

One day I will learn, one day.

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