A Mothers Day Shopping Trip spills into August.

Parts One, Two, Three, four, five  and Six are here, please have a look,

All around us the men moved with a terrible purpose. The floor had gone from dingy gray concrete to planks, laid at right angles to the walls. And the walls were slowly sinking, and curving, and had taken on a stark brown appearance, with eye bolts sticking up at regular intervals. But, they weren't really bolts, they were pins, driven into the top of the wall. 

Motion, movement, and deliberate confusion were all around us. Men moved, shuffled past our cart without even seeing us. There was a sense of urgency, despite the slow, deliberate ballet unfolding in front of our eyes, you could sense the menace, the terrible importance of each small movement.

Fog was drifting from right to left, wispy clouds floating like small ghosts in front of us, around us. They seemed to avoid getting too close, swerving around the spot where we stood, and then converging on the other side. 

Rays of sunlight began to break through, and the scene was unreal. A ship, shiny with varnish, buckled and rolled. Masts high with sails, ropes wound and hanging from everywhere, grates to the holds below., and stairs leading to an elevated deck in front of us. We were sprayed by briny, cool water that crashed into the side of the "boat."

Somewhere behind us a song broke out, a melancholy song of love, loss, and sorrow. Soon men all around us joined in haunting, chilling, heartbreaking harmony. A tear ran down my cheek, even though I could only understand part of what was being said. Much of it seemed to be in an ancient, dead language, that I, somehow, began to decipher, decode. A dark, long lost language only sailors, and kayakers would understand.

My wife pulled out her phone and said, "this is crazy, I am giving them a bad review on Yelp." 

Everything stopped. Men turned to look at us. One of them grabbed a deck chair from behind a large round vent that led to the bottom off the ship.

Another came rushing over with a frosty drink, topped by a toothpick holding several slices of fruit. A band started playing calypso music. Soon, we were sitting in chairs, under huge umbrellas, being fanned by a couple of men dressed in white shorts and t-shirts that had tuxedos printed on them.

My wife looked over her huge sunglasses at me and said, "you have to love Yelp."

"Yes, you do." I said. 

to be continued.

Mothers Day shopping, almost Labor day, I wish

Parts One, Two, Three, four and five are here, please have a look,

Almost unnoticeable in the mists and breeze stood the entrance to the aisle where the lattice work and fence sections were shelved. The floor was definitely starting to roll under our feet now. We had the cart, the orange, unwieldy shopping cart, emblazoned with the Home Depot logo to hang onto.

Unsteadily we made our way down the narrow path. Wooden casks stood, strapped to pallets in the middle of the aisle, and down the right side crates, nailed tight, stood, lonely in the dim light. Men came, men wearing grey clothes, rambling slowly, steadily there movements timed exquisitely with the movement of the floor, and picked up a crate. Turning slowly they carried the crate to the swinging doors in the back of the store.

"Hey, let's ask them where the lattice is." My wife suggested, smiling politely, as if we were bathed in the light and crowds of the mall, looking for a cinnamon roll, or iced tea. Not stuck in the netherlands of Home Depot on a holiday weekend.

"OK." I said, she had made up her mind, the course was set and we had full sail, there was no turning back now. Besides, there might be some light on the dock. This gloomy, misty, damp fog was starting to have a negative effect on me.

Unfortunately, the dock was just as dreary, and crowded. Men, shabby clothes, stringy hair, gaunt, bony, matted beards, rags wrapped around their heads, moved slowly around the area. Moved past us as if we did not exist. One of them had a wooden hammer, rounded and worn.

At the ringing of a great bell, a bell that shook the walls, rattled our bones, he slammed a pin that held a wheel, it spun slowly, gaining speed, pulling a chain through a hole in the floor. It stopped with a crash, and a voice screamed "Raise the main sail."

It echoed around the room, and with a great sigh the room, and several adjoining areas, including the employee break room and the public rest rooms broke free from the building. We were adrift, I could hear a lighthouse bell in the distance. All around us the men moved with a purpose, in and out of the mist, and fog.

I looked at my wife, and said, "I told you we should leave."

"Without the lattice for the cucumber?" Her voice was filled with an outraged shock. Her disbelief was profound.

"Man the starboard cannons. We are sailing to send Lowes to the bottom of the sea." A voice, deep, resonant, steeped with the weight of command, an ancient voice from a forgotten past echoed around the "ship."