The day I would have published this post, after several days working to complete it (new baby chaos), was the day a person walked into King Soopers in my college town of Boulder and home state of Colorado and shot ten people dead. I’m heartbroken for my friends who were in the parking lot, who live within miles of the store, and who are living yet another nightmare about public safety. I will still submit the following joy of sharing public space at markets and I hope it brings power to our desire to be in harmony. Rest in peace to those who were brutally taken.

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I miss markets. Choosing my own produce. Seeing all the sides of a bottle of olive oil or something new that someone successfully got to market. Labels. The smell of a bakery. The sounds of people laughing and all of that mixed together. Farmer’s Markets, supermarkets, specialty stores, Pike’s in Seattle (I just moved here in late 2019), or wherever you go to experience a market.

Not just the food but the spectacle and the melange of signage (I am a font nerd) and aromas and sounds of conversation, sellers selling, buyers buying. The whole character of where you are on a map. The local magic.

I miss the electric creativity that gets to my kitchen after the buzz at a market, remembering suggestions, demonstrations, new flavors I want to work with.

I miss the culture, region, and community it represents. When I’m vaccinated, I want people back. As annoyed as I get with traffic and parking and what comes with crowds, I crave my five senses experiencing a market.

I want that for all of us.

I want my baby to experience it. I want the fear and division to subside. I want to see faces and for my face to be seen.

Not in our ultra-curated social media way. Not in a “unfriend me if you think this or that” way. But we, as humans grow from.

I want us to reconnect over things like peaches or fresh bread or gorgeous handmade things. Like moms and dads struggling with a crying baby or offering for someone to go in front of you in line. Or expressing how delicious something is and another person becomes a customer for that hard-working seller.

For spontaneously having a taste of cheese or fruit or ice cream and then buying more.

I am optimistic about our chances to heal mentally, emotionally, and physically when we look at the people sharing our beloved shared spaces and experiences. For me, the market will be sacred in a familiar, yet brand new way.