Written Laura v.c
Value Village is just a thrift store, a place to buy used clothing for cheap prices. I thought this way too. I used to work up front as a cashier, and I’d see mothers with their tiny children, making their way to the kids section while their babies screamed against their shoulders. I’d see university students, still paying off their school loans, rush through the isles for a whole new wardrobe. This is all I’d see, but when I started working in the back a year before as a sorter on the table, I saw something else. I saw Army uniforms, sports trophies, school diplomas, and work uniforms. I wasn’t seeing a store anymore. I was seeing memories of people I had never met. I was seeing death, life, marriage, and graduation. I was seeing moments that could never be given back. I was seeing hope, faith, love and hate with each bag or box I would slice open. I was seeing the life I hadn’t lived yet.
There isn’t much that goes into sorting on the table, besides the constant need for speed, and accuracy, and that left a lot of room to think, and I had been forced to do a lot of that, especially about my own life. Usually, like most I’m sure, I could avoid the feeling of regret. I mean I worked, I was a student, and I didn’t have much time to think of anything besides that, but there was a lot I still wanted to do with my life, and one day I came across a box, it was just a normal box, containing clothes and other items, but it became a lot more then that as I began to sift through the items. I found a multitude of shirts from all over the world from Disney World in Florida to Hawaii to Vancouver Canada to places I hadn’t ever heard of. Regret surfaced and not for the first time that day either. I stared at those shirts, wondering how long it would take me to travel. Eventually, after a gentle push from my partner on the table, I continued through the items. This time, I found a grey University sweatshirt and a pile of used textbooks. Regret pressed in again. Admittedly I felt worse and worse as I found next, a small slightly yellowed wedding dress, then a ton of baby clothes of all different colors and sizes which I usually detest finding. This is someone’s life, I thought. They had done it all from travelling to graduating university to marriage and then kids. By the time I finished the box, it was going onto break and regret had sunk in so far that I couldn’t eat. I could only think about everything that I hadn’t done, that I might never get the chance to do. It was a strange thought since I am only 25, and life isn’t over yet, but I couldn’t help it. I thought about that stranger I now knew who was probably sending her kids off to college. Was there anything she regretted or was every moment worthwhile? I watched all the employees around me, having lunch at the long tables and wondered if, sometimes, they felt pangs of regret for the things they hadn’t done. Had one of them come across a book signed by a local author and sighed in longing, wishing it had been them? Or had one of the pricers come across a wedding dress and hoped that their big day was coming soon?
I don’t know.
When break ended it was work as usual and contemplating time was over. I came across a lot more boxes and bags that day, not quite so fateful as that one, but still filled with memories. My partner on the table who currently had a daughter turned to me, eyes full of concern. “You’re not talking too much today,” she told me.
I smiled. “Yeah-- I was thinking.”
“About what?” She asked
“Life.”
She only smiled and I smiled back. One day someone else on this table will open up a box and find my life, waiting inside, I just hope she feels a little less regret then I did.
Life goes too fast, in my opinion, and I want to live it before I miss the chance and open another box full of regret.
