There’s a certain scent in hardware stores – not the perfumy enticement of a department store cosmetic counter, but rather a scent of sort of solid security suggesting all will be well. Likewise, Fleet Farm Supply. Fleet Farm offers more, though.

When I was a young boy, I’d head straight for the toy aisles at Christmas where I found the toy tractors and farm implements emblazoned in their catalogues. In springtime, I’d make a beeline for the cheeping sounds of chicks kept in a large trough under warming lights at the back of the store. As a young man, I found satisfactory clothes there and, when I was on my own, I bought the kind of food and drink a person can actually enjoy. Tools? For home and auto, just like an insurance commercial. Hunting and fishing supplies capped my needs. In fact, I’ve often thought everything I’ve ever needed can be found at the Fleet Farm.

Then one day tested that claim.

I’d been moseying through the aisles, stopping too long at fishing lures and probably not long enough at propane. It was because I was gazing at the new fishing lure in my hand, that I ran smack into a customer at the endcap. She nearly fell, but I caught her; and we stood there for a split second locking eyes and sizing each other up. It was uncomfortable and a little exciting at the same time. I’m not sure she felt the same way.

Ten minutes later, I checked out: fishing lure, trail mix, and Dr. Pepper. I’d just tossed my treasure into the backseat, when a voice addressed me. I bumped my head on the ceiling of my car, and, rubbing my head, straightened before I shut the door.

Why were you following me?

It was the customer I’d bumped into earlier.

Following you? I wasn’t following you.

She motioned in the air. And yet, here you are.

Maybe you were following me!

And maybe you are interested in birdfeeders, but I don’t think so.

It’s true. I’m not interested in bird feeders. Never have been.

I glanced at my watch.

It’s lunchtime. Join me?

It’s been twelve years. We have three kids, four dogs, go to church on Sundays, and keep each other content. And I just picked up another bird feeder at Fleet Farm.

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I started this story two months ago. And then my mom’s death stopped many of life’s activities, as it should. Maybe I’ll address it sometime. But I wanted to finish what I started. It’s not as long as it might have been. But I am becoming accustomed to accepting that things aren’t always, or even usually, as we might wish them.

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