I came to Wenatchee almost thirty years ago, and after stints with my husband in Burns and Prineville, Oregon and Elko, Nevada (and a brief layover in Spokane) it seemed like a metropolis. Always a bargain hunter, I became a fan of Grocery Outlet pretty early on. This poem was inspired by the scent of a particular soap I found there one day.
I had the privilege of spending the year between high school and college in Aarau, Switzerland as an American Field Service exchange student. We AFS students were all together for spring break at a stone ruin-turned-hostel in the Alps. I was nineteen and very romantic. This poem is what I wished for that week. It all came flooding back in the aisles of Grocery Outlet.