March 28th, 2005

(no subject)

Tonight I bought my last pack of cigarettes, from a place I'd never bought cigarettes before. I grew up in the village of Williston, and when I was about eight, the soft-serve icre cream stand and general store on the corner burned down. After renovation, it became some bizarre quilting and yarn store. Since then, I've gone to the store on the opposite corner, conveniently named the Korner Kwik Stop.

KKS is where Jill and I used to go to buy bags of dainty mints for fifty cents a bag, and use them to play poker. It's the store I'd pull my Radio Flyer to with a wagon full of returnables, and spend the money I'd get on chocolate bars and Charleston Chews. It's where I walked every morning at the beginning of high school to wait for the bus, and it's the place in Williston I've never been back to as anything other than a little girl that can barely reach the counter. It just felt weird doing grown-up things like getting gas or buying cigarettes at the place that knew me (and every other kid in my town all through our youths) as a tiny little kid with a pink bicycle. It's the kind of place that's had the same employees since the early nineties, and if I were to go in there, they would surely know it was me, and that I wasn't the same little girl anymore.

But I went in tonight, and did something I'd never done at that place before. I asked for a pack of cigarettes. I was asked for ID, and sure enough, the little girl with the Radio Flyer full of returnables had grown into a legal cigarette-smoking, punked out version of some kind of adult. It was me, little Rachel.

Anyway, I've decided it's really time for me to try and quit smoking cigarettes. Of course, I've said this before, and I'm not sure how well I'll end up doing, but I figure it's worth a good try. The last time I tried to quit was last New Year's, when I went a whopping four days without any tobacco, and then caved desperately. I'm thinking about self-hypnotizing.