Grand Opening!!

The other day, quite by happenstance, I discovered a slew of delectable grocery items hidden in the back recess of my pantry. There were sauces and nuts. There were teas and flours. There were even two jars of sesame seeds I’d completely forgotten about. I took each item and turned it around in my hand, admiring its promise, imagining what I could make with it. I was seeing each item anew. There I was, in my own private grocery store shopping for the things I’d bought in the past—but all over again.

These yummy foods had existed quietly, hidden, and forgotten in my home. How surprising it was to rediscover so many wonderful things that I wanted to own, but weirdly already did. I re-wanted what I had. I stood there in a strange type of time warp. It was a purchase warp.

Suddenly it occurred to me, “Hey, wait a second. How many other things around here would I love to own?”

Then it struck me: I was standing in the middle of a big desirable store that stocked all the items I’d love to purchase. I had solid proof of this.

“If this were true,” I said to myself, “imagine how little I’d have to spend!”

This is when I got excited. I said to myself, “Darlin’, I’m taking you on a shopping spree.” It’s also when I had the revelation: my house was holding a Grand Opening. And you know what that means. The early bird catches the worm!

I quickly ran upstairs, changed into proper shopping spree attire, ran back downstairs to get my car keys, then ran back upstairs to get my glasses, then hurried back down to grab my water and head out, but then sprinted back up to grab my phone, then scurried back down and into my car and I was off.

I backed out of the driveway, turned right onto the street, made a U-turn, then drove back to my driveway and found a parking spot. The parking lot was empty. It looked like I was the first one there. I gathered my things, went up to the front door, and knocked. The door opened and a woman stood there smiling.

“Hello!” she said. She was awfully perky and looked exactly like me.

“Hi,” I said, “I’m here for the Grand Opening. Am I too early?”

“No, no. You’re great. Come on in. My name is Stephanie. I’ll show you around. Everything is completely free,” she said ushering me inside. “Whatever strikes your fancy. Floats your boat. Shop around.”

I thought it was a blunder of a pricing strategy that everything at this Grand Opening was 100% free, but it’s what I expected, too. I kept my opinion to myself. No need to encourage this woman (strangely, my doppelganger) to change her mind.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asked.

I had to think about this for a moment. What was I looking for? Why was I even there? I wasn’t quite sure, so I shrugged. “I don’t really know what I’m looking for, but I’ll know it when I see it. I just like a grand opening.”

“I see. Well, take your time and let me know if you have any questions. Here’s a bag to carry your purchases.”

“Thanks. Can I start upstairs?”

“Sure. Let’s do it.”

So, we began in the bedrooms, starting with Stephanie’s. She showed me to her closet, and I poked around for a bit. There were shirts and pants and shoes, any of them for the taking. I considered many items. For some, I couldn’t see a future between the two of us. For others, I reintroduced myself. “Hello, comfy socks. It’s nice to make your acquaintance again.”

I picked out a few shirts, a couple pair of jeans, and some shorts that I thought I’d love to circulate into my regular rotation. I stuffed them into the bag. I rummaged through the back of a pajama drawer.

“These look cozy,” I called over my shoulder to Stephanie. I put them in the bag, too. I was having success already.

“What about any of those?” she asked me, pointing to a small pile of clothing I’d decided against taking.

“No. I really don’t think I want those. I can’t see a time when I’d wear them happily again.”

With that, Stephanie marked something down in the notepad she’d been carrying around.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Just keeping track of what you don’t want,” she said.

We continued into the bathroom. The first thing that caught my eye was a basket holding some bathroom necessities.

“I love this basket. I’ll take it.”

“It’s yours,” she said and handed it to me to put in my bulging bag.

I opened the linen closet and gasped at all the blankets.

“Wow! There’s so many to choose from.” I took out several and put them aside for purchase. “But these,” I noted, holding up a couple, “You can put them on your list.”

My shopping spree was feeling very luxurious. I could take what I wanted and sniff my nose at the rest. I also had my own shopping assistant at my beck and call. I was the definition of diva. I decided I could get used to being a diva.

After a while we moved down to the ground floor. This was where I figured I’d be able to get some real shopping done. I scoured the kitchen and chose some baking dishes in the way back of a cabinet, but I decided against another few that were redundant. Why have so many of the same thing? One or two alternates was plenty. Stephanie jotted this all down.

I passed by a framed photo of my kids when they were young. I hadn’t noticed it in a long time, having gotten used to the objects it sat among on a countertop. I picked it up and looked at it for a long while. They were so young once, my boys. I slipped it into my bag with a wistful sigh.

We wandered slowly from room to room until we stopped in front of a big wall mirror. “That’s nice,” I said. “Is it for sale, too?”

“Everything is for sale.”

We stood and looked at the mirror. I admired the nice wood frame at first, but then we both noticed ourselves and each other in the glass. I pulled a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“Oh, this hair,” I said, with a tone of exasperation.

“It looks fine to me,” Stephanie replied. “Look at mine. Now that’s a mess.”

“It looks great,” I told her. And it did look great. Everything about her looked great in my opinion. Me, on the other hand, I was looking a little worse for the wear. I examined my face for a moment. It was showing the years.

“You’re sweet,” Stephanie told me. “But honestly, I do think I need a bit of a renovation.” She scanned her body with a slight look of disappointment.

This was when I realized what an odd couple we were. There we were, two women who looked exactly alike, neither of whom were satisfied with themselves, but both of whom were satisfied with the other. And we were practically replicas of each other.

We stood for a little longer, looking at our reflections when I said to Stephanie, “I think we can love what we have.” She glanced at me in the mirror.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we have so much that is loveable. Look at all of that,” I said, half-waving to the pile of beautiful things I wanted to buy. “The lovely basket and blankets. The pretty shirts and useful baking dishes. These are lovely—and plenty. Look at us,” I told her, pointing to our reflections in the mirror. “Even we are lovely, and plenty. I can vouch for you, and you for me.”

We looked around the house and then at each other.

“But the oddest thing, Stephanie?” I said to her, “Is that we can see it in another’s belongings and in another’s face, but not always in our own. I needed you to sell me my own things before I noticed how happy I am to have what I own.”

We stood in silence for a spell.

“And I needed you to do the same,” she said quietly.

This is when it dawned on me that what I was doing was bonkers, but in a helpful sort of way. By re-shopping for my possessions, I was reconnecting to the abundance sitting under my roof. It’s normal to get used to the way things are, both the good and the not so good. But this doesn’t mean that getting used to things is where we must stay. Just as it’s productive to rejig our struggles, it’s also helpful to reconnect to all the good we can’t see anymore.

“Stephanie,” I said, “you’ve been wonderful. I think I’m finished shopping for the day. What do I do now?”

“Well, you don’t owe me anything, but what about all these items you weren’t interested in?” She showed me the list she’d been keeping. “Would you like to make a donation today?”

I paused. For a moment I still felt attached to these things. Letting go is hard and unsettling. But then I remembered I hadn’t wanted these things enough to put them in the bag. This meant it was time to let them go. Besides, how sad that they were living out their inanimate lives abandoned and useless in the dark of my home. Why didn’t they deserve to be the sparkle in someone’s eyes? I looked at Stephanie and gave a thumbs up. “Let’s donate.”

The things I was buying suddenly felt even more like family. Plus, I was adding value to the world by converting useless objects into useful ones.

The two of us loaded my free purchases into my car. I thanked Stephanie by giving her a heartfelt hug. We waved to each other, and I drove off. I turned right onto the street, hung a U-turn, and arrived back at my home in no time. I lugged my things through the front door and began to unpack them.

I cherished the old photo of my kids. I placed it right where it had been all along, but now I noticed it with new eyes. For dinner I made a casserole with some of the pantry items I’d found. At night I slipped into the pajamas from the back of Stephanie’s drawer. They brought back memories of when I used to wear them all the time. It was a strange yet homey feeling of reacquainting.

I don’t know when I’ll do that again—go to my own Grand Opening--but I know I’d be happy to. I’d get to visit with Steph again (now I call her Steph). I do wonder how she’s doing sometimes. Her place was lovely, and so was she. I’m going to recommend her to myself next chance I get.

Have a nice week, friends.