Target is the store that practically raised me. When I shuffle through my room, my backpack, the kitchen or the living room, I guarantee there will be at least three things (if not more) that are from Target. I remember Target runs in the afternoon with my mom since I was little, sitting up in a shopping cart with a slushy and bag of popcorn. To a little kid this store was the coolest thing ever.
In late July, the store would put up all the back to school posters and have all the school supply lists out waiting. Seeing this at Target, any kid knew their summer was officially over. For many of us, this store was where we felt what it was like to be scared for our lives from the terror you felt after your mom stepped into the clothing department. Clothing racks became our own personal jungle-gyms, castles, mountains and whatever else your young mind could conjure. Target is the home of your very first temper tantrums over toys that mom said to put back. Embarrassment for probably breaking something off a Christmas display or spilling a drink on the floor was accompanied by sibling rivalry and bickering till mom jumps in and and threatens to make you go back to the car. Despite all these things, this was where the little you flourished. This store was your everything.
It’s amazing how all of us at one point were able to create something at out nothing in this store.
Target was still there for us even at our most awkward times. It was there to take on the even bigger embarrassments, like buying tampons with your mom, and then in the next aisle over, you both spent almost forever looking for the perfect acne wash. It was the place where you bought your first cheap lip gloss just to impress the cute boy in the third period, or for guys, that really “manly” cologne you would practically bathe yourself in after gym class. Then there were the bras. Oh boy, can’t forget bras. That little bit of nervousness you’d get as your mom would hold three different bras up to your chest just so she could figure out the right fit. Sometimes, Target also turned out to be the place you'd see everyone you particularly didn’t want to see at that moment. Then there was that thrill you got when your mom first sent you in all by yourself. Even though you were a little older, the store still seemed so big.
Now Target is where I go to grab things for projects that I have procrastinated for way too long. I go there to grab a t-shirt that I need for no reason at all, just because I wanted one in the moment. It’s now the place where friends and I race each other in shopping carts, pretending to be kids once again. Going there now, I see my own friends are working there. There’s also more stress when I go there, whether I’m trying to make sure I have enough money on my card or deciphering between things I need and things I don’t.
When I buy food there, I seem to look at the calories. I pay extra attention to the clothing size. I actually read all the labels on the items now. I’m extra careful in the parking lot so I don’t hit anyone’s car. The store is just my go-to for everything, and now, I finally understand why Target was always so packed, why my mother made me hold her hand and why we spent hours in the acne wash aisle. It’s different now, but it hasn’t completely lost all of its thrill and excitement. I just can’t fathom how much I’ve gone through in this one store, how over the years of going there I have changed so much.
Looking at the items in my basket now versus what I put in my mom’s as little as just three years ago shows me that I've grown into a different person over time while shopping there. It’s kind of weird to think about. That store is filled with so many memories,and although these memories seem insignificant, these memories make us who we are. Until next time, Target!
