Women Love Target. I am a Woman.

The fact that I like Target is an understatement. I love it. I might even love it more than the stereotype it’s become for my demographic, and I don’t give a shit. It’s always been a running joke between me and my closest friends that I will go to Target for any reason, any day.

But, something dawned on me yesterday, and I wasn’t ready for it. It was too raw. Worse, I didn’t appreciate how my stupid emotions had to go and attach themselves to my safe place. Yet, here we are.

What I noticed is that I’ve found comfort in that store throughout several seasons of my life. I realized it because different sections of the store reminded me of different phases I’ve survived. Yesterday was supposed to be just a little jaunt through the aisles of my happy place and, instead, it was a walk down memory lane that I never asked for. It was both beautiful and heartbreaking. I can’t change those memories, so I’ll do what I’ve done all year and lean into them instead.

Here they are in no particular order other than time:

The Music & Movies Section = High School

When I was in high school, new music and movies came out on Tuesdays, and I tracked those releases weekly. I remember when I got my license at 16, I drove that first free Tuesday to Target and bought the new Matisyahu album that I had waited patiently for that summer. Nothing beats the way I felt when I walked into the store, grabbed that $12.99 CD, got back into my freshly-vacuumed, coconut-scented Grand Prix, and drove my happy ass down the road with the windows down despite the Tennessee humidity. Truth be told, the windows were down because I had no job yet and gas was expensive. Either way, no one could tell me anything. Every time I walk past this section, I’m reminded of that carefree girl.

The Art Supplies Aisle = College Date

I didn’t party a lot in college, but I did go on a lot of interesting dates with some interesting people. I had American Literature with a film major named Thomas. After some quick-witted banter, I agreed to go on a date with him. One date turned into a few and, on one of those dates, he brought me a gift. Inside a small Chinese diner, he handed me a small gift bag containing a mixed CD he designed and a Target gift card. First of all, let’s appreciate the mixed CD. This was my generation’s equivalent to a major declaration of love/devotion/lust, and we didn’t take it lightly. I still don’t take this lightly. If someone gives me a playlist, you better believe I’m listening and relistening to every lyric of every song trying to determine exactly how much you love me. I laughed when I opened the gift card, and he shyly explained it was for me to enjoy Target some more since he knew how much time I spent there. Then, he did a boss move and asked if I wanted to go to Target after dinner. OF COURSE, we went. For some reason, we ended up in the art supplies and two things happened. The first thing is that we awkwardly ran into the sisters of my ex-boyfriend. The second thing is that he grabbed and held my hand for the first time to calm my nerves after that run-in. Now, this didn’t turn into a lengthy romance and I don’t look back on this guy as a positive memory as a whole, but this moment pops into my head when I find myself in this section. The small gestures of that night were pure. How could I forget that bit of humanity?

Kitchenware = College Nights

When I wasn’t on a date with a lanky guy from the film department or a lanky guy from the music department, I was in Target with my best friend, Rachel. Like most college students, we were broke as hell and never bought anything. We would just peruse the store, taking turns repeating the phrase, “That’s so cute.” Our conversations basically sounded like this:

Rachel: OMG, look at how cute this is (shows decorative glass).

Me: Dude, that is so cute.

Rachel: Yeah, that’s cute, too (points to decorative plate).

Me: Oh shit, why is that so cute?

We especially liked the decorative plates. I like to think it’s because we were scoping out the items we wanted in our homes one day when we became actual adults. We assumed real adults bought all kitchen items from Target. I thought of this just last weekend as I watched Rachel open bridal shower gifts. At one point, we looked at each other and said, “OMG, that’s sooo cute!” and I know we both were thinking of those brokeass nights in Target. (Update: Rachel and I are now full-blown adults and we still desire/buy stuff from Target with our adult money. We are not fancy. Take us how we are.)

Customer Service = Wedding

This one time, I got married and registered at Target. Tons of gifts were given three months before I was set to relocate to Germany with all the items. Then, I found out the army would pay to move everything except the wedding items because they were not considered the army’s responsibility since they were obtained before I became a military spouse and dependent. So, I did what any other respectable Southern woman would do, and I returned all of my wedding gifts in person to Target’s Customer Service desk. In retrospect, this might have been a sign of the times I should have considered, but hey. Once the items were returned and money was placed on Target gift cards, I got online and reordered every single item and had them all shipped to my new APO address in Baumholder, Germany. This is probably the only time I cussed out Target with true vigor.

All of Target = Living in NC

Time in Germany ended, and I moved to North Carolina. The city I was in did not offer much, but it did have a Target. I was homesick and lonely, and my spouse at the time understood this. Despite all that would later change, one truth that will remain timeless is his understanding of my love for Target. I was driving an hour to and from work everyday for my first teaching job where I cried on my planning period at least once a week. He was x-raying patients on post that ran the gamut. One day, he’d have a patient with a routine check-up. Another day, he’d have a deceased patient who had been decapitated in a car accident. We didn’t always share the details of our work days, but the days were long for both of us in different ways. Weekly trips to Target served as a constant we learned to rely on. We went once a week during the work week and every Saturday morning. There was a Best Buy next door, so it was usually a double-trip. There is nothing glamorous about this, but the small joy we found in it was something we had in common, and that norm was what we had at this point in our lives. When I hear older couples reflect on their newlywed memories of having lots of time and little cash, this is what I think of for myself. Target was there for it.

Snack Bar = Maternity Leave

When I made my way back home to Tennessee, I got pregnant with my dynamic force of a son. Maternity leave was difficult for me. While I love my son fiercely, staying home alone with him was a challenge. I could feel myself slipping into depression because I wasn’t interacting with adults and I didn’t feel like I was creating or contributing anything to others. I didn’t feel like myself. I was used to teaching 140 teenagers for seven hours a day with minimal breaks to eat or pee. Now, I had all the time in the world to hold a baby that was more amoeba-like in interaction than anything else. I remember the day I broke. I texted my friend, Lexi, and I told her I was worried about myself. I was trying not to cry, but trying was futile. I explained how I was feeling, and Lexi reassured me it was normal and that I needed to try to get out of the house. She said, “Take the baby to Target. Put his carrier in the stroller. Go get yourself a $2 Coke & Popcorn and walk around. Take your time. Look at everything. Do not leave Target until that popcorn is finished.” I wish I could say it only took one day of Lexi’s advice, but it actually took 2–3 trips a week to keep my head above emotional water. I’m no medical expert, and I’m definitely not claiming that Target can save your life. But, I am saying that, looking back on it, I went through some postpartum depression and those walks around Target slowly pulled me out of it when I was too ashamed to ask for help.

This is where I have to take a break. The memories get too heavy. It’s insane to think of all the lives we have already lived by today. I’ll probably just head to Target and catch a breather.