recuerdos

A furniture store sign evokes memories of used-to-bes. Saturday mornings looking for the right piece, the one that goes with all the others. Morning light streaming through display windows, the smell of leather and chemical-treated couches. Salespeople eager to help. Fat white women wearing denim shirts with ducks or flowers embroidered on them. Talk, talk, talk.
On to the next store, the one with wall-sized paintings and deals you can't resist. The cheaper the furniture, the stronger the smell of chemicals. The salesmen wear gaudy clothes, the selection is mind boggling.
Lunch. We talk about it, haven't seen it yet.
Back home in the afternoon, empty-handed, tired and a little cranky. Another round next weekend. Maybe we'll pull some weeds later, or tomorrow.

I miss it, I think.