Two blocks away from the Mississippi State Capitol， and on the same street with it， where our house was when I was a child growing up in 1）Jackson， it was possible to have a little pasture behind your backyard where you could keep a Jersey cow， which we did. My mother herself milked her. A 2）thrifty homemaker， wife， mother of three， she did all her own cooking. And as far as I can recall， she never set foot inside a grocery store. It wasn’t necessary.

For all her regular needs， she stood at the telephone in our front hall and consulted with Mr. Lemly， of Lemly’s Market and Grocery downtown， who took her order and sent it out on his next delivery. And since Jackson at the heart of it was still within very near reach of the open country， the blackberry lady clanged on her bucket with a 3）quart measure at your front door in June without fail， the watermelon man rolled up to your house exactly on time for 4）the Fourth of July， and down through the summer， the quiet of the early-morning streets was pierced by the calls of farmers driving in with their plenty.

My mother considered herself pretty well prepared in her kitchen for any emergency that， in her words， might choose to present itself. But if she should， all of a sudden， need another lemon or find she was out of bread， all she had to do was call out， “Quick！ Who’d like to run to the Little Store for me？”

I would.

Our store had its name—it was that of the grocer who owned it， whom I’ll call Mr. Sessions—but “the Little Store” is what we called it at home.

As I set forth for the Little Store， a tune would float toward me from the house where there lived three sisters， girls in their teens， who 5）ratted their hair over their ears， wore headbands like gladiators， and were considered to be very popular. They’d wind up the Victrola， leave the same record on they’d played before， and you’d see them bobbing past their dining-room windows while they danced with each other.

A little further on， across the street， was the house where the principal of our grade school lived. What if she would come out？ She would halt me in my tracks—she had a very carrying and well-known voice in Jackson， where she’d taught almost everybody—saying “Eudora Alice Welty， spell oblige.” Oblige was the word that she of course knew had kept me from getting a perfect score on my spelling exam.

Our Little Store rose right up from the sidewalk； standing in a street of family houses， it alone hadn’t any yard in front， any tree or flowerbed. It was a plain frame building covered over with brick.

Running in out of the sun， you met what seemed total obscurity inside. There were almost tangible smells—6）licorice recently sucked in a child’s cheek， dill-pickle 7）brine that had leaked through a paper sack in a fresh trail across the wooden floor， and perhaps the smell of still-untrapped mice.

Then through the motes of cracker dust， cornmeal dust， the Gold Dust of the 8）Gold Dust Twins that the floor had been swept out with， the realities emerged. Shelves climbed to high reach all the way around， set out with not too much of any one thing but a lot of things. It was up to you to remember what you came for， while your eye traveled from cans of sardines to ice cream salt to 9）harmonicas to flypaper.

Its confusion may have been in the eye of its beholder. Enchantment is cast upon you by all those things you weren’t supposed to have need for， it lures you close to wooden tops you’d outgrown， boy’s marbles and agates in little net pouches， small rubber balls that wouldn’t bounce straight.

Making up your mind， you circled the store around and around， around the pickle barrel， around the tower of 10）Cracker Jack boxes.

If it seemed too hot for Cracker Jacks， I might get a cold drink. Mr. Sessions might have already stationed himself by the cold-drinks barrel， like a mind reader. When you gave the word， Mr. Sessions plunged his bare arm in to the elbow and fished out your choice， first try. I favored a locally bottled 11）concoction called Lake’s Celery. You drank on the premises， with feet set wide apart to miss the drip， and gave him back his bottle.

But he didn’t hurry you off. A standing scale was by the door， and it could weigh you up to three hundred pounds. Mr. Sessions， whose hands were gentle and smelled of carbolic， would lift you up and set your feet on the platform， hold your loaf of bread for you， and take his time while you stood still. He could even remember what you weighed last time， so you could subtract and announce how much you’d gained. That was good-bye.

The happiness of errands was in part that of running for the moment away from home， a free spirit. I believed the Little Store to be a center of the outside world， and hence of happiness.

In my memory all the people are still attached to the store. Everyone I saw on my way seemed to me then part of my errand， and in a way they were. As I， myself， the free spirit， was part of it too.

我是在杰克遜市長大的，我們家的房子位于距離密西西比州議會大廈兩個街區(qū)遠的一條大街上。在這里，你可以在你家后院建個小牧場，養(yǎng)頭澤西種乳牛，我們家就這么干了。我母親會自己給奶牛擠奶。她是個勤儉的家庭主婦，身為人妻和三個孩子的母親，家里的飯菜全由她一個人包辦。在我的印象中，她從未踏足過任何雜貨店。因為完全沒必要。

如果需要什么日常用品，母親會用家里前廳的電話打給萊姆利先生，向他咨詢。萊姆利先生是位于市區(qū)的萊姆利市場與雜貨店的老板，他會接下母親的訂單并在下個送貨日給母親送貨過來。又因杰克遜的中心位置離田野還算比較近，賣黑莓的女士必會在六月份出現(xiàn)在你家門前，手拿舀黑莓的量杯敲打著她的桶子。賣西瓜的大叔也會無比準時地在7月4日的獨立日到來前上門叫賣，并持續(xù)整個夏季。農(nóng)民們會開車過來趕集，車上裝著自家的農(nóng)產(chǎn)品，叫喊聲打破了清晨街道的寧靜。

母親認為，用她的話來說，對于廚房里任何可能出現(xiàn)的不時之需，她都做好了萬全準備。但是萬一，她突然發(fā)現(xiàn)她缺了個檸檬又或者是面包用光了，她所需要做的就是大叫一聲：“快！誰來幫我去一趟小雜貨店？”

我會去。

我們的雜貨店有它本來的名字——和店主塞申斯先生的名字一樣——但是我們家都叫它“小雜貨店”。

在我走往“小雜貨店”的路上，一首曲子會從一所房子里傳出，飄入我耳中，那所房子里住了三個十多歲的姐妹。她們用發(fā)墊把頭發(fā)墊得高高蓬起，蓋過耳朵，戴著像角斗士一樣的發(fā)帶，這樣的發(fā)型在當時很流行。她們會搖動著維克多牌留聲機，播放著早已播過的曲子。你還能看到她們跳著舞從飯廳的窗戶邊翩翩而過。

再往前走過一點，穿過街道，就是我們小學校長住的房子。她要是出來會怎樣呢？她會叫住我——她的聲音沉厚，為杰克遜人所熟知，因為她幾乎教過這里的每一個人——說道：“尤多拉·愛麗絲·韋爾蒂，把‘迫使’這個詞拼一下。”她當然知道就是“迫使”這個詞讓我的拼寫測驗拿不了滿分。

我們的“小雜貨店”佇立在人行道的邊上，混跡在一片家庭住宅中，但只有“小雜貨店”沒有前院，門前也沒有任何樹木或花圃。這是一座簡單搭建的紅磚房。

從太陽底下走進屋里，你會覺得里面一片晦暗不清。里面的氣味仿佛伸手可觸——最近孩子們常吃的甘草糖的味道、腌蒔蘿的味道，其汁液滲透了紙袋，流到木地板上，留下一道新鮮的水痕，也許還有未入羅網(wǎng)的老鼠那股味道。

地上撒落著餅干屑、玉米片屑，以及清潔完地板留下的“金粉雙子洗衣粉”的“金屑”，你走過滿是碎屑的地板后，才能看清屋里的一切。四面都是高高的貨架，架子上擺放的商品并不單一，而是五花八門，琳瑯滿目。你的目光從沙丁魚罐頭游移至雪糕鹽，從口琴飄到粘蠅紙，至于你還能否記得自己此行的目的就得靠你自己了。

顧客也許會覺得里面的商品讓人眼花繚亂。所有的這些東西都讓你著迷不已，即使你并不需要。你這個年紀已不該再玩的木陀螺、裝在小網(wǎng)袋里的男孩玩的各色彈珠、不能直直彈起的橡皮球，這些無不深深吸引著你走過去。

你一邊做決定，一邊在店里轉(zhuǎn)來轉(zhuǎn)去，一會兒轉(zhuǎn)到泡菜桶旁邊，一會兒又轉(zhuǎn)到堆成塔形的“好家伙玉米片”旁邊。

如果覺得吃“好家伙玉米片”太熱了的話，那么我可能會要一瓶冷飲。這時塞申斯先生可能早已站在了冷飲箱旁，就像是會讀心術一般。你說了要喝什么后，塞申斯先生就會把他光裸的手肘伸進箱子里，試著撈出你要的冷飲。我喜歡喝一種名叫“萊克芹菜汁”的本地產(chǎn)瓶裝混合果汁。我會在店里把果汁喝完，喝的時候雙腿張開以防水珠滴到身上，然后把瓶子還給他。

但是他不會催促你。門口附近放著個臺秤，最重能稱到三百磅。塞申斯先生會把你抱起來，讓你站到稱臺上，他的雙手很柔軟，聞起來有股煤炭的味道。當你站在上面靜止不動時，他會從容不迫地站在一旁，幫你拿著面包。他甚至記得你上一次稱的體重，這樣你就可以把兩次的數(shù)量相減，然后說出你重了多少。然后便是揮別再見。

跑腿差事的快樂之處部分就在于可以短暫地離開家里，無拘無束。我那時相信“小雜貨店”就是外面世界的中心，也就是快樂的中心。

在我的記憶中，所有的那些人仍然與那間雜貨店密不可分。對我來說，所有我在路上遇到的那些人似乎都是我跑腿差事的一部分，而在某種程度上他們確實如此。至于我自己，那個無拘無束的小孩，也是其中之一。