My Trips to Target - A Memoir

If anyone knows me, they know I love Target. Every Saturday for the past 7 years, you’ll find me there around 12ish, to complete all the errands for a successful week with my dad. I’ll have a checklist in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. I have been going to the same Target on Washington Blvd across the Staples and near the ice cream truck my whole life. Every important moment in my life has had a correlation with that Target on Washington Blvd. And through it all, my dad has been by my side. Going to Target has, in some way, made me closer to him. Every time I walk through the doors, I am immediately overcome with a sense of nostalgia and a feeling of home. If I look to the right, there is the pharmacy where I have always gotten my flu shots. I look to the left and see the Pizza Hut where every Saturday my dad and I grab a bundle of breadsticks and just talk for a couple minutes. In this hectic world in which we live, it is certainly needed.

One of the earliest purchases I remember my parents making at Target was my floatie. I was three years old, and they had just signed me up for swimming lessons. It was one of those strap floaties that you place across your chest and shoulders, and it was bright pink--my favorite color at the time. I loved that floatie, and I was ecstatic to wear it in the water.

The next day my mom and dad brought me to the YMCA in Manhattan for my first swimming lesson. As my mom introduced me to my swim coach, I saw his eyes land on my floatie. “Oh no,” I thought. “What if he doesn’t allow me to use it?” The thought made me shudder. I had never swam before in my life, and he expected me to get in the water with him, without some sort of rescue device to help save me? Um, no way!

Well, that is exactly what he did. I remember he reassured my parents that he was a certified swim coach and none of his other children had drowned before. I would not need a floatie to learn how to swim. Well, he might have reassured my parents, but not me. When I heard his earth-shattering words, I had no choice but to throw a tantrum. I mean that is the only way for a three year old to get out of something they don’t want to do, right?

I let out a blood-curdling scream and refused to get in the water. I cried and cried until my parents didn’t have any choice but to take me out of the pool. Afterwards, I felt pretty proud of myself, but my parents certainly didn’t feel the same way. They had really wanted me to learn to swim. My mom did not know how to swim, and she didn’t want her daughter to go her whole life without learning either. But they knew I would refuse to enter the water without my neon pink floatie. The only way I would get in the water was with someone I trust.

The next day, my dad took me to Newport Pool. It was right next to the pet boutique, and as we walked there together I pointed out all the cute dogs in the window to my dad. We entered the pool deck, and my dad bent down on one knee and placed the neon pink floatie on my shoulders. He tightened the belt, so that I wouldn’t be worried about it falling off. Next, he took my tiny hand and walked with me to the edge of the pool. I stared down at the mint blue chlorine water and tears pooled in my eyes. All the scariest thoughts a three-year-old can imagine started jumping across my brain. What if my floatie falls off? What if I drown? I cannot do this.

My dad entered the pool first. He took some of that mint-blue water in his hand and splashed it on the side of my shins. It was warm. It felt really nice. He ushered me into the water with his hand.

At first, I shook my head profusely. “Papa, please don’t make me do this. I will get hurt,” I begged and begged. But my dad didn’t yell at me, or force me into the water.

He just smiled and remained calm the whole time. “Beta, you have nothing to worry about. You trust me right? I won’t ever let anything happen to you.”

He was right, he had always kept me safe. So why shouldn’t I trust him to help me learn to swim? I looked into his hazel brown eyes and took the hand that he had offered. He helped me into the pool. Slowly and steadily, with my neon pink floatie fastened tight, I waded into the water.

And boy, oh boy, it was love at first touch. I loved the way the water felt on my skin. I loved how I could just splash and splash forever. Still, for the first ten minutes I held on to my dad for dear life. He never complained. He just walked with me all the way across the pool to get me comfortable. Then slowly, he started letting go. But he always grabbed back on whenever I cried out for him.

By the end of the day, I was floating all on my own. My dad was still next to me, smiling from ear to ear. I had never had more fun in my life until that day. I could not wait for my dad and I to go back with my neon pink floatie the next week. Because of the floatie I bought at Target, I learned how to swim. More importantly, I developed a trust in my dad that I still have to this day. I know he would never let anything bad happen to me, and I can always trust him, no matter what challenges I face.

Another fond memory of Target comes from my childhood bikes. I remember the first time my mom and dad came home with my actual “big girl” bike. I was seven years old. It was magenta with white detailing, and it had a little flower bell on the handle. I was so confused.

“Why was I getting a new bike?” I asked my parents, “What was wrong with my Barbie bike?” My mom and dad looked at each other and smiled.”

My mom held my hand as she spoke, “Beta, you are in first grade now. You don’t need training wheels anymore. You are a big girl, and I know you can ride this bike even better without your training wheels. Nothing will happen to you.” I wasn’t sure, though. I mean, I had a pretty good deal with my Barbie bike, and I wasn’t looking for something new. See, the thing about me is that I hate change. Ever since I was little, I’ve dreaded it. Even the smallest thing, like a new bike, I could never accept with a full heart. To this day, it is still hard for me to accept change. I am such a control freak that if one thing changes from what I planned, my mind goes absolutely crazy. And, as you can probably guess, that means I don’t like being spontaneous either. I like everything on a rigid schedule, on my own terms.

So as you can tell, I wasn’t super crazy about this new bike. But I had some time. The bike was a gift for my birthday, which is in December. For a couple months, the monstrosity was hidden away in the garage. Eventually, I forgot all about it. Until one nice, warm, innocent June day, when I walked into the garage. My dad was taking my new bike out of the box. My helmet was sitting out right next to it.

“Um, Papa? What are you doing?” I asked, slightly alarmed.

“Today is the fine day that my daughter is going to learn how to ride her bike, without training wheels. And don’t worry, I will be next to you the whole time,” he reassured me.

I knew I couldn’t ask my mom to get me out of this as she would definitely take my dad’s side. I tried to think of escape routes. The tantrum thing really wasn’t as effective at age seven, so that wasn’t an option. I could pretend I was sick, but my friend was coming over later for a sleepover. If I faked being sick, I would have to cancel. My only option was to get on the bike.

I reluctantly put on my rainbow helmet. My hands shook as I buckled it on my head. I was so sure that something was going to go wrong. My dad rolled my magenta bike with the flower bell out onto the sidewalk and motioned me to get on. My hands were so sweaty as I grasped the handlebars, and my teeth couldn’t stop shaking.

“Papa, I do not want to do this. I am going to fall and get hurt.” I pleaded with him.

He cleared his throat. “Baby, nothing is going to happen to you. I’m here right? I am going to be holding on until I know you are ready. Nothing will happen. Hundreds of kids ride their bikes without training wheels, why can’t you? By the end of today, you are going to do it. I know you will.”

I sighed and put one of my feet on the left pedal. My other foot was still on the ground. I knew that, in order to fully commit, both of my feet had to touch the pedals. I looked at my dad’s face, ready to say no again, but then I saw his eyes. They were so full of hope that I would do it, and I knew that if they could talk, they would say to trust him.

I pulled my foot to the pedal. He gripped the back of my seat with one hand, holding me steady. Slowly, I started pedaling, with my hands still shaking on the handles.

“Don’t worry honey, you are doing fine,” my dad said as he walked behind me. His words gave me confidence, and I began to go faster and faster. Eventually my teeth stopped chattering, and my hands stopped shaking. I was doing it!

I squealed in delight, “Papa, look at me, I am riding a big girl bike!” I turned around and saw my dad standing on the edge of the sidewalk, watching me go. “Wait,” I thought to myself, “am, I riding my bike without his help?” I was! I felt the wind rushing in my hair as I raced down the street. My smile stretched end-to-end across my face. Nothing I had done so far came close to beating this experience.

“Go, honey! I am watching you, don’t worry,” my dad called. And I knew he was. If I needed help, he would come rushing to my side. I also knew how proud he was that his daughter was riding her bike without training wheels. A couple days later, my mom, dad and I went to Target to run some errands. I ran to the bike section, and saw the exact same magenta bike. The bike I had hated, but grown to love. This bike would take me on so many adventures. From biking on familiar Jersey City roads, to biking on the streets of New York City, that bike showed me so many new experiences. And of course, my dad was by my side for each one. Once again, Target allowed me to bond with him over something new, and I continued to learn that my dad would always be there for me, no matter what.

Last summer, I went to Target to buy school supplies for my incoming Freshman year. I was so anxious for everything to be perfect, as this was my first year of high school. I was extra nervous because this was the first year that I would attend a different school. My whole life, I had gone to one school from preschool through eighth grade. I was extremely familiar with my teachers and my classmates, and I had never had anything to worry about. This year, everything would change. I was attending a new school, where I didn’t know most of my classmates or my teachers. The last two weeks of August I was freaking out about what to get in order to make sure my school year would be the best it could be.

When the day came to go back to school shopping, my dad parked our car in the crowded parking lot one late summer Saturday. My hands were shaking as I grasped the list of supplies I had made with my bubbly handwriting. My dad noticed my nerves, so he put my palm on his and squeezed it tightly. He looked at me with reassuring eyes and said “Why are you so nervous baby? Everything is going to be fine. I’m here, right?” I took a deep breath. My dad was here for me. He would help me with whatever I needed in high school. I shouldn’t be scared.

But as soon as I walked into Target’s school supplies section, an overwhelming feeling of anxiety kicked in. I looked around and saw other kids who looked like they were in high school. Everyone looked so miserable, like they were dreading going back to high school, and they wanted to be anywhere but here.

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but one teenage girl was talking to her mom right next to me. “Mom, I don’t want to attend high school. Freshman year was the hardest year of my life, and sophomore year is only going to get worse. All my teachers are so hard on me. I just can’t handle the pressure again.” When I heard this, my heart dropped. Was this what my life was going to look like for the next four years? My eyes welled with tears. I heard my dad approach with a shopping cart.

“Beta, what’s wrong?” he questioned me. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?” He looked into my eyes. At that moment, I didn’t want to do anything besides cry.

I buried my swollen face into his warm chest and sobbed, “Papa, I know I am going to be miserable in high school. I know I am going to hate it. I’ll miss my middle school and my friends so, so much.”

My dad bent down on one knee and grasped my shoulders. “Beta, look at me. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise. I am here for you. Your mom is here for you. We are all in this together. When I was your age, my parents sent me to boarding school, where I was all alone. I thought I would be so miserable, and I was for the first couple of days. But slowly, I adjusted. And those years? Those years in boarding school were some of the best of my life. It was hard, but I adjusted, just like you will. You have Saira and Amanda by your side to be there for you. You are going to be just fine.” At that moment, all of my doubts began to fade. If my dad could survive boarding school, then I could survive high school. That back aisle of Target, near the candy, that was the most reassured and at peace I had felt all summer. All because I knew my dad was there for me through it all. Because of that moment in that back aisle, I knew I was ready for high school.

Over the course of many years, I have gotten to love Target so much. Not necessarily just because of their goods, but because of the memories. My world is always changing, but going to Target every Saturday with my dad has been a constant. Every Saturday we walk in, I go to the fruit section and my dad goes to get milk and eggs. We meet up and get cereal, bread, and vegetables together. Every Saturday, my dad finds an excuse to go the electronics section for just a couple minutes, while every Saturday I make myself cozy in the book section until he’s ready. Both of us know that no matter what happens during the week, rain or sun, Saturday afternoons in Target is when we spend time together, just the two of us. Because of Target, I have bonded with my dad in so many ways that I could have never imagined before. Because of the floaties he bought me, he taught me how to swim. Because of the bike he gifted me, I learned how to ride my bike. And during our times waiting at the cashier to check out, or walking through the aisles, the small bits of conversation I would never give up for anything. The trips we take every week have a special place in my heart that I know I am going to cherish for the rest of my life. As I grow older, I am going to have to face challenges that are more complicated than learning how to swim or ride a bike. But I know through it all, my dad is going to be right next to me.