The Unspoken Salute

It's been a long day. Of course I forgot I'd said I'd be responsible for dinner tonight. As I pull into a parking spot, in what feels like the farthest spot from the front, I realize I'm in no mood to do this. I'm already here though. The next mistake I new I was making, was going in without a plan or a list. I was deciding on dinner depending on what I saw and what's on sale. Lately, it has felt like I need a loan to accommodate groceries and the gas needed to get them. I do delivery at times, but it's frustrating when things aren't delivered. Tonight, I couldn't risk it. I get out of the car with my reusable bags prepared to go shop. I feel smart that I remembered my bags, until half way to the front door I realize I have left my phone and wallet in the car. Typical, I think as I make my way back to the car. When I get to the car, a person is parking right next to me. Tires on the line. Leaving no space between our cars. They hit my car with their door as they get out. Sheepishly, they glance at me and say sorry. Checking the spot, it seems fine. I growl to myself, People. Taking a deep breath, in and out, I start the journey in again. 

Once inside, I regret not bringing a sweater. I'm freezing. This is going to be fun, I sarcastically note. I peruse the fruits and vegetables first. I decide I'm going to make a simple fruit salad and sautéed mixed veggies with dinner, whatever that will be. I'm still waiting for it to manifest itself in my mind. I grab a few limes and a lemon. I love the fresh smell of lemons even through the rine. However, I didn't realize the bag I got had a hole and the limes were falling right through. I gather them embarrassingly and put them in my cart. I notice a man near the tomatoes watching me. I can't read his expression. He's not humored or laughing at my clown like performance. He's not sorry for me. Doesn't look concerned. I can't read it.

I go to the meat section. Now goosebumps all over my arms. Almost visibly shivering. I'm going to make steak. I will need enough for 6. Good lord, not steak. Even if I say I'm cooking with portion size in mind this would be expensive. No, steak is not in the budget for 6.

Oh well, back to shopping. I go to the frozen section. I take a frozen lasagna out and some garlic knots. Then I see the price of the lasagna and put it back. I see a cheaper one, grab that instead. However, I like the other one. This new one I've never tried. Maybe tonight is not the night to be cheap and try a new brand. I put it back and grab the other one again. Do I really want to feel the burden of this dinner for the rest of the month. Is it that important. I stand there holding both. I stand there paralyzed by indecision and budgetary woes. Staring back and forth. I see the man again. This time he is behind me, waiting for me to finish my lasagna crises, so he can grab his frozen ravioli. He doesn't look annoyed or humored. He simply is waiting. I remember seeing a coupon for the brand I like. With the coupon I can justify it. I nod to him as I place the lasagna in my cart. He gives a nod back. It feels like a salute between two fellow shoppers.

I get icecream for dessert and a box of brownie mix. Decidedly, I speed walk to the checkout line. Afterall, I have to bake and cook it all now. In line I see a magazine. The magazine has trump on the cover and a headline about Biden. There has been so much going on in the news and I have been so busy, my temptation to check it out wins. I flip through, finding the pages referencing the headline on the front. I take a break from reading to put all my items on the conveyer belt. Then go back to reading. This is serious stuff. Juicy even, unfortunately. I'm completely consumed when I hear the checker say, "miss do you need bags". I respond, "Yes". I show the coupon to the woman for the lasagna. She scans it. This coupon is expired. "What?". "Expired". "I just got this from you guys". "Yes, last month", she replies. "Right, last month, great". It's then that I notice the same man is in line behind me. "Miss do you also want the magazine?" I flip to the front to look for the price. Flipping it over, I see $13.98. "GOOD GOD!", is that serious, not trying to diminish what writers and publishers do. In reality I wish they made more, but for my pocket book right now, "GOOD GOD" I have streaming services, news papers, Bills, etc etc. Can I put it on Bidens tab? I don't believe in taking the lords name in vain as I know how it bothered my family, but "GOOD GOD" this trip is killing me. I feel the walls closing in. I close the magazine, "Um, no, I don't believe I will be purchasing this today." I pat the cover after putting it back safely on the shelf. Now, treating it like a piece of fine china that could break at any moment. I look at the man. The man looks at me. There seems to be some sincere understanding in his look. He picks up the magazine, puts a twenty dollar bill on top and hands it to the cashier. She rings it up and pays the twenty, leaving me to pay for the rest. I pay and look back. This time the man nods first and in an exaggerated way. I nod back, our salute, reinvigorate by this odd angel I've just met today at the store. A fellow shopper who just made my day in a small way with a small kind gesture.





Sent from my Galaxy