My heart, soul and stomach,

Oh, darling. Forgive me if my words should fail, but in regards to you, my admiration cannot be bound to such trivial, emotionless communicators. Those who have not experienced an exterior so easy on the eyes and an interior so easy on the wallet may question whether a regional, award-winning grocery store by any other name would smell as sweet? To them I say, nay. This is the kind of love/food-buying experience that changes a person.

You, my sweet, possess produce so fresh it inspires me to be a better person. Immediately when I walk in and sneak a glance across the room I forget that I ate an entire family sized bag of potato chips last night. Or rather, I don’t forget — I can never forget — but I accept myself for who I am. There’s a kind of undeniable tension between me and the salad bags. A will-they, won’t-they. I will buy it, as a self-esteem boost — you bought salad this week, great job, it’s the thought that counts — but will I eat it? Our story may never be complete.

A similar tension exists when I walk down the baked goods aisle, but it is immediately clear there is a lot more history here. I’ve seen every part of this aisle. I trace the baking paper-lined display case in my dreams. Save it for a special occasion, I tell myself. Something so rich and pure should not be savored regularly and with no reserve. Yet, an almost primal voice whispers within me, “treat yourself,” and I quickly succumb to temptation.

Primal, survival instincts surface again as I walk down the aisles of coffee beans and trail mix pieces. Being able to grind my own coffee beans and put together my own trail mix humbles me and brings me back to my roots.

Beyond keeping me treated and prepared, you also keep me cool. When I walk into the back corner of the store, stocked wall to halfway down the aisle with craft beers I peak. I’m never cooler than when I pick a six-pack entirely based off of the graphic design or clever name and then bring it to a dinner at a friend’s and act like it is “my brand.” My friends would also like it on the record that these times are also when I’m the worst version of myself.

Finally, there is my one and only, my steady, the one I can’t get out of my mind and I think about curling up with after a long day — the prepared foods. Whether it’s sushi or Chinese food, or pizza or mac and cheese, you got what I need. Even though one time I got food poisoning from you, it taught me a valuable lesson. You don’t truly know love until you’ve gone through the hard times. That’s why I went back and ate it again the next day.

Thank you Wegmans for all you have given me. You’ve made me a better person, a stronger person, a poorer person.

Patty Terhune is a senior policy studies and television, radio and film dual major. Her post-retirement dream job is to run a grocery store but she now realizes she might have too many feelings for that. You can follow her on Twitter @pattyterhune  or reach her at paterhun@syr.edu. 

Published on September 28, 2016 at 7:58 pm