
“Are you the store manager?” the liquor vendor asks.
“No, I’m just part time. Started this week.”
I am working at a local convenience store on the poor side of town where I now live.
“I’m just doing this part time to pay my basic bills so that I can do what I want.”
“And what is that?,” he asks.
“I have a computer app that is my passion. I host Sacred Circles. I do webinars and events. I just bought ten acres of land, and I want to do things on there.”
Heal. Help.
It rather feels as if I might be able to do that there as well. Because it is not the side of town with all the fancy subdivisions, it feels as if there is more community. These are Alabama locals. And compared to the plastic world that I am more familiar with, 85% of their customers pay in cash. Blue collar work trucks, construction crews, concrete workers, dump truck drivers, electricians and poor people. Women wearing chemo scarves. Another tells me, “I keep losing weight each week. Don’t know why.” Bony. Stumbling. Hobbling. But I watch all of them keep going.
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