Driving Home by the Old Landmarks

“There’s your old favorite liquor store,” my husband said while we sat at the four-way stop near the upper flat I lived in before we were married forty years ago.

“It was within walking distance. That was a big plus.”

“I bet.” He’s ribbed me about my six pack and Fritos habit from way back when for many years.

“Yeah. Those were the days when you could send your kid to the drug store to buy your cigarettes.” I remembered the drug store across the street from the liquor store with great fondness, it being only a block away.

“You did that? You sent Elizabeth to the store to buy you cigarettes?” He looked sidewise at me, half smiling and half ready to report me to the authorities.

“I don’t remember if I did it. But, you know, if she was already going to the drug store for a popsicle, you could see how it would make sense.” Next, I was going to tell him I had her do our week’s shopping at the grocery up the street and bring everything home in her Radio Flyer.

“When I met you, Elizabeth was ten. You sent a kid under the age of ten to the store to buy cigarettes.”

“With a note, you know, a signed note. But I don’t remember actually doing it. But I know people did that kind of thing.” It was the times, the 80’s, everything was looser then, but I was telling the truth. I had no memory of this offense.

“You should write about this conversation tonight.” He’s always on the lookout for blog topics for me.

“I should write about how some people, not me, sometimes sent their kids to buy cigarettes? No one would believe it.“

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Photo by David Trinks on Unsplash