Prologue
Growing up in Small Town, USA leaves a mark on a person’s soul. Either a person will embrace the simple, but hardworking life, gaining a certain degree of humbleness and great significance to family values, or they will resent the limited opportunity and frame of mind of their community.
For the people who do not cherish and thrive in the small-town way of life, the mark left is a metaphorical bruise on the person’s soul. All black and blue, a sore spot, stemming from the resentment this person has grown into from the pain caused from feeling suffocated and misunderstood due to his or her uniqueness and contradicting ideals. For others, the mark branded into the soul is like an intricate web of faint, soft lace-like scars. Each scar representing a lesson or experience that this person embraced that allowed him or her to grow stronger in one’s sense of identity, woven together to define the person’s heart and motivations. This net works to remind the person of where he or she comes from, and to help in finding a well-earned pride in the simple community that raised them, as it is often said-- it takes a village. Then, there are those people who fall somewhere in-between; the people who fit in and take pride in their home and who feel they owe the people their immense gratitude for helping them become the person they are, but also feels a certain degree of resentment and that drives a person to grow out of their origins, searching for more than a small-town life can offer them. The key is to find someone who’s mark compliments the one on your own soul, this does not mean someone with an identical mark, but someone who’s character and experiences help to challenge and inspire you, so that the both of you may grow together, intertwiningly. To build a life both can love and thrive in.
If you were to see Grace Johnson, or as most called her—Gracie, under just the right lighting, anyone who possessed a decent set of eyes could almost see perfectly, the remarkable way in which her skin almost glittered with a fine veil. She was the epitome of the perfect hometown girl, you could ask anyone around about her, and they would respond by reminiscing of fond memories, of her as a child, or when she had helped them in some way. However, almost everyone’s favorite recollections of Gracie were about her toddling through her grandparents’ store, after her mother. It seems that young Grace was adored by everyone, especially for her wonderment at the gumball machine her grandfather put in the store at its opening, back in 1983.
Ed and Martha Coen opened the store in the small town with the hopes that it would be a success. It wasn’t really a large store, just big enough to carry the necessities, plus a litte, so that everyone in the community didn’t have to drive forty minutes or so anytime they needed anything. As it turns out, the store was very successful, so much so, that only a few years after their opening, the Coens added a few gas pumps as well. However, no matter the success of the store, or any of its additions over the years, Ed always said that the best investment he made, was putting the gumball machine in, this was because of the simple joy it gave his customers and especially his grandchildren.
When Grace was just a toddler, her favorite pass time was following her mother throughout the store while she stocked shelves and helped customers. Caroline never made it very far away from the blue-eyed doll that was always waddling after her with her little golden curls bouncing all along the way. The only thing the little girl adored more than her mother was the shiny gumball machine that sat in the front of the store, next to the newspaper stand and bulletin board. It didn’t matter how serious Gracie’s pursuit of her mother was, if she came too close to the shining red machine, she would stop and stare, awestruck by the colorful globes nestled inside. Gracie spent so much of her time gazing at the gumball machine that her grandparents decided to put a bench there; she would sit on the bench and stare every afternoon until she fell asleep. And as she grew, Grace’s interest never dulled. When she was about eight, she and “Scotchie”, who was four at the time, waited on their bench with a note book and pencil, asking every single customer how many gumballs they believed the machine held. Even today, there most likely isn’t a single person in the community who doesn’t know that the machine held three-hundred-twelve balls.
Gracie’s mother worked there all through her youth, and she and Grace’s father now run the store full time, as Ed and Martha have since retired, but still help on occasion. Grace’s younger brother, Scottie, also works in the store, when he wasn’t at school or riding that death trap dirt bike of his. Grace works there when she is home on break from college. The bench is still Grace’s favorite place to sit whether just needs to sit for a few moments to collect herself, or to go through reports for her parents. Even though she is in college now, she sometimes still comes home on weekends, just to find comfort in her favorite study spot. While growing up, Grace always did her homework there, and if you look closely, you can see faint engravings of her writing in the wood finish.
