Grocery Carts of Color
Yesterday as cold as it was, I ventured to the one place I don’t like simply because it is one-stop- shopping. It certainly wasn’t my first choice to plea my case of insanity or over- medicated sinuses, but we have no other one-stop-shopping.
I’m not sure if it is age or if I can blame someone else for my continued quandary of losing my car in the parking lot, but for some reason I do, so I parked it where I knew I would find it.
As I opened the door to get out, a gust of wind almost knocked me over; not what I needed after a miserable week of blowing my nose and coughing fits. Pulling my hood over my head was my next move in case Antarctica decided to leave its post.
Then I had to wait for some big red truck to get out of my way as he purposely blocked all traffic to get the one parking space in front. He couldn’t pick one a little further down the row. No! He waits and waits to grab this particular spot where a customer is taking their “dear old” time backing out. His angry face revealed his impatience.
Once inside, I grab one of those heavy, old, bulky grocery carts. Of course I would pick the one with a wobbly wheel that sounds like a clunker on a gravel road.
After pushing it a few steps I turned around to put it back almost hitting the nice lady behind me. Apologizing profusely for my lousy driving, she walked off as if to get out of my way, not that I blamed her. Searching to find the “cart of my dreams” was not easy as I tried a few out. Finding one that at least rolled quietly, I looked around and people were staring at me.
Sheepishly, I pushed the cart past them all the while hoping they would understand my plight without blurting out some off the wall, nasty comments.
So far my idea to leave the nest for a break from myself and a change of scenery had turned into a trip to nowhere.
Was it too much to ask for a parking place specifically for the “recovering” like mothers- to- be now have?
Was it too much to ask for a grocery cart that rolled like it is supposed to?
All I wanted was a few minutes of normalcy whatever that is.
Walking past the clerks at the registers, out of the corner of my eye I noticed colors.
Bright blues, yellows, greens, lining the walls of the clothing department.
There were T-shirts, shorts, flowery skirts, and matching sleeveless tops hanging on racks.
Displays were set up with tank tops, named brand Bermuda shorts and Capri pants.
On the other side were splashy pajama sets and robes to match.
All of a sudden my perspective changed. It may be cold outside, but Spring had arrived in Wal-Mart.
As I strolled through the rich colors of fabrics, breathing in the smell a new season began to take over.
It was worth the trip until I went outside and couldn’t find my car.