My mom once lost my sister. She somehow made it through a decade of parenting without misplacing one, or both, of her off-spring. But one day at Target, she walked away, turned around, and my sister wasn’t there anymore. She retraced her steps. She walked through every aisle. She called her name. Then she began to panic. Mom has a cool head in tight situations, so her panic took her straight to customer service where she had them page my sister over the loudspeakers. Within minutes, they were reunited.
Though my mom never lost me, Special Correspondent Yaelle did. We were out at a street fair when she spotted someone she knew in the band. As soon as the talented group took a break from enticing people to dance in the street, Yaelle went over to say hi. I walked off to find a seat, keeping an eye on Yaelle’s head through the crowd. I found a seat and pulled out my book; I read while keeping one eye on Yaelle. Or so I thought. The next thing I knew, my phone was buzzing with messages from Yaelle – and I couldn’t see her anywhere. Thankfully, like my mom, we kept out cool. I got to high ground and spotted Yaelle by the pickle booth, half a block away from where she’d been talking to the band. Moments later, we were together again.
I was glad to have found her, but couldn’t understand why Yaelle had walked away from the band. “I couldn’t see you,” she informed me. “I asked myself where you could be. The pickle booth was the only logical place.”
Pickle booth: the home base of street fairs. Yaelle, as usual, was right. It was the only logical place to be. I highly recommend the half-sour. Yaelle quite liked the spicy.