I Found it in the Biscuit Aisle

Today was the day it finally happened.

It was inevitable. Anyone who has ever moved knows that it is a moment that is unavoidable. There is no predetermined length of time after you arrive for it to occur. Sometimes it sneaks up on you in the oddest of places, when it is least expected. For me, it occurred today, in the local grocery store.

Now I know you know what I’m talking about. I’ve arrived in my new home and done all of the best practices for getting used to a new area. Brought specific items that remind me of the places I have lived before. Purchased little comfort items that will make me feel connected. I’m very scent oriented, so the smell of soap and shampoo from New Jersey helped with that thread of continuity.

Slowly and intentionally, you get familiar with the local area. I have walked my neighbourhood each day, in larger expanding circles. Start with memorizing landmarks, walking a path until things feel familiar and made the associations that will help. The bus stop is right outside my new favourite coffee house. Getting to the grocery store means turning left – no, right – at the end of my driveway and left – yes, left – at the Working Men’s Club. This pub serves food all day, this one only in the evening, and this one never has food. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, all the methodical work is blown away.

I was expecting it, only because it happened to me each time I moved in the past. I’ll never forget “the moment” when I moved to Mercerville, New Jersey. I had been there for about 4 months and felt confident about my area. Or perhaps it was overconfident. Determined to find a bagel, I hopped into my car and headed to the store I had passed on many occasions. It was only a few miles away, so I foolishly left my GPS off.

I got lost.

After 20 minutes and 3 passes by the local Shop Rite, I found it. Pulled into the parking lot, which was surprisingly empty…and realized it had closed about 15 minutes earlier. Oh well, I thought, just head back home.

I got lost again.

Finally, I pulled into a parking lot and shut off the car. Apple Maps was taking its time trying to find a connection, so I decided to call my mother. You know, the thing you do when you’re a kid and you’re really upset but you’re trying hard to be brave? She answered the phone, and I’m still not sure she understood the blathering on my end. However, she did sense that this was “the moment” and calmly talked me down. It happens. You reach a point where everything seems to be good, and you are suddenly reminded that you have moved X miles away from home and everything has changed. Then you get over it, and it all settles in.

When I say I was expecting it, I didn’t think it would come on so early in my time here, or that it would be in this way. I mean, yes, it was (again) food related, but I never would have guessed it would occur in the biscuit aisle of the local Morrisons.

I stopped in today on my way home from a trip into Manchester. (Went to the cathedral, had a little lunch, it was lovely.) Now that I have a refrigerator, I was giddy with excitement! I picked up fruit, and enough chicken for 2 meals. Cheese, salad mixings – oh! I knew I would be having company tomorrow, so I’d better pick up some nice biscuits to have with tea. (One of the main rules of hosting, I learned within my first 24 hours, is to always offer tea, and have some decent biscuits on hand.) I was even congratulating myself (in my head. That would be weird, saying it out loud in a store. I mean, really.) I had been thinking “biscuits” and not “cookies, wait, no, that’s not what they are called here” which shows how much I have adapted to my new language. I picked some chocolate covered ones with a hint of orange, and then I saw several boxes labelled “ginger”. I do love the taste of ginger. Maybe they would be like ginger snaps. I put them in my basket and cheerfully headed to the self-serve check out.

Imagine it. I’m scanning my items, looking at the screen to verify, and suddenly the words appear – The Best Ginger Cookies. What? I look at the box. Cookies. I look at the screen. The word is still there. And the reality hit me like a pie to the face. (Not a pie, like the pub pies, with steak and onion and all kinds of delicious flaky crust. One of those creamy pies, like Sara Lee makes.) I really don’t have this all together. It’s not all under control. I am definitely a stranger living in a strange land. So, I did the only thing that could be done at that moment.

I laughed.

Because no matter how long it takes for me to adapt, no matter how many times I think I’ve got the changes to a minimum, or apologize because “my American is showing”, it will always be this way. Subtle reminders that I am on the adventure of my lifetime, that I don’t have to be in control of every little thing, and that joy can appear any time, even on a box of cookies (which, by the way, were utterly delicious.)

And in case you were wondering, I didn’t get lost on the walk home.