I was amiss in not sharing one other very special event that happened to me during my rounds at different markets.
First, let me say that Farmers Markets remind me of my maternal grandmother. In my opinion, she was an angel on earth and deserved a crown when her soul descended to heaven. Anyhow, I got to go along on some occasions when she went to market. One of the treats she always picked up was chocolate-covered marshmallows. These luscious treats were kept tucked away in a kitchen cabinet, and often a special treat to me as her doting grandchild. She also introduced me to cup cheese. So, at market, I always buy a chocolate-covered marshmallow, and as I mentioned in my post, also found cup cheese. I was happy with the fond memories they brought me.
At my last stop, a very busy place with a packed parking lot, I was lucky to find a spot to park right in front of the building. As I sat in my car, sipping at my water and people watching before I got out to go inside, I noticed a lady sitting alone on a bench, holding a half-full bottle of Coke. I don’t know why she caught my attention. But as I looked at her, I had a clear thought that I should speak with her. I sat some moments longer, watching other people and my gaze returning time and again to her. And each time, I felt the strong urge to talk to her. I didn’t know what I would say – or should say – but the feeling didn’t lessen.
I kept waiting, hoping the reason she was waiting would happen so I didn’t have to talk to a stranger. But it didn’t. And it started to get warm in my car so I took another sip of water and left the car. I thought – hoped – maybe I could resist the urge inside me that kept telling me to talk to her.
But it didn’t. I got a step past her, but then I turned around. I sat next to her on the bench, smiled and said hello. I learned she was waiting on a friend to arrive, and I told her quickly where I was headed for the afternoon. Feeling that I had fulfilled that crazy urge, I stood, and as I did, I turned to her once more and said, “By the way, my name is Jody.” She smiled and said, “Mine is Freda.”
My beloved grandmother’s first name was Freda. An uncommon name to be sure, one you don’t suspect to hear. My heart missed a beat, and my eyes immediately filled up with tears. With a tearful smile, I thanked her for chatting with me and entered the store.
I don’t usually think about fate, unless it’s during bad times, when I wonder if karma has come and what I did to deserve it. But it was fate – or a higher power – that kept pushing me to speak with her. After purchasing items my grandmother loved at market, I met a woman bearing her name!
I think my grandmother had a little hand in that nudge. She used it to tell me that my memories of and with her are precious and priceless. It was a wonderful special moment!