The little things in life

When we moved to Canada, we lived in a rental apartment in Mississauga. Most of the new Armenian immigrants lived there and so we followed. My mom was here alone with us, but we never ever wanted for anything. Mom did shop at cheaper stores though, and Sears warehouse store was her go-to place. 

Once in a while, she would say "Let's go shopping. You need some new clothes". I don't know if she ever took Jackie because she was not really interested in these things, and spent a large part of her time studying, but I was always up for it. It wasn't just the shopping, but the trip from Mississauga to Scarborough, where we would look for the white water tank at Warden at Eglinton. I would always smile when I saw it because I knew we had arrived, and bargain hunting would soon follow. Was it irony or nostalgia that landed me in my first detached house five minutes from there 30 years later. I still see that tank and smile, even though Sears is gone, and the adventure is no more. 

She would tell me I could choose a couple of things, but I would always push my luck and choose more, and she would give me that sly smile and relent. Then she would pull out that blue Sears card, that is now in my possession, even though it expired decades ago, and pay on credit. CREDIT!!! Such a foreign concept to those from Iran. But my mom was very good with money, and with one salary, managed to have a car, give her girls all they needed, support her parents, and save for a house.

I doubt we went to Sears more than half a dozen times, but the ceremony of it was something that stayed with me, and these little things in life will always be a special memory. The habit of shopping at Sears stayed with me too. In fact, the stores closing in Canada have made me sad because it is one more thing I won't be doing that reminds me of my mom. My leather sofa, recliner, and as of Wednesday my dining set are from there, as are most of my shoes, clothing and towels. 

Now that our roles have changed, I treat her to things. Today I treated her to a pedicure, and she spent the hour saying Karmir Lak (red nail-polish), and Pakhpaghak ootenk (let's have ice cream), and waving her fingers in the manicurists face. So I smiled, and relented, and got her the full treatment, knowing full well the manicure wouldn't last- and it didnt.  And afterwards, of course we went for ice cream. I can't do much to make her happy, but I think these little things do.

Khenzores (my apple), it's payback time, and I am happy to do it. I hope to be able to do it for many years to come.