Dear Super Target You Broke My Heart

Dear Super Target,

     It's been two months since we parted ways, and I can honestly say I am not over you yet. There is a hole in my closet and pantry with your name on it. In desperation, I have even resorted to looking to Walmart for comfort, but that's like dating a redneck with screaming kids and a drinking problem after being married to a guy with a steady job and a 401K.
     Now I know we had problems. You claim money troubles and a lack of interest in your welfare. But not from me. Never from me. I lavished attention and the household income on you. I devoted hours, spending quality time, just the two of us. I even ignored the kids just to spend time alone with you. We walked and talked together. You convinced me I needed new pillows and copper-tinted mugs for Moscow mules. Sometimes we met for coffee, sometimes a frozen pizza and fat-free organic milk. But I never took you for granted.
     So when you told me you were leaving, you broke my heart. I didn't even see it coming. Just one day, I was buying Christmas lights with a Cartwheel discount, then next you posted a note saying goodbye. Why? I know some girls were fickle and strayed to nearby Walmart or Winco. But I stayed loyal even when you stopped carrying my Newman's Asian sesame dressing or made me wait in long check out lines.
     You changed the way I looked at life. I mean literally, I used your optical department to buy new contacts. But it only served to help me watch you pack up and move away.
    Now two months later, you salt my wounds with the empty shell of what used to be. Could you at least have the common decency to sell the property so I can move on to another love, possibly Ikea. I hear they like long walks and Swedish meatballs. It just adds insult to injury to see your vacant building the stain of your bullet logo haunting me like a Target shaped hole carved out of my heart.
    And please, don't say I can come visit you at your old house. You live half-way across town. I will not risk half an hour in the car stuck behind cataract-afflicted snowbirds driving thirty in a fifty mile an hour zone just to see a smaller version of what once was.
     The kids miss you, the cat misses you. We had something special. Now you left me alone. I hope you find happiness and a better bottom line. I guess it's off to Walmart I go. At least, it's nearby and I can console myself with a sundae from McDonalds.

Sincerely,
A former Super Target customer

*I am mourning the loss of Indio Super Target on Jackson.