The Grocery Haul
I looked at the pile of grocery bags, willing myself to pick them up and haul them inside, knowing what it would require of me and doubting that I had the strength. I remembered the fabled words of my father:
“Only sissies and idiots make more than one trip.”
I sighed, mustering up all the strength I had, and reached to grab the pile of plastic, cursing myself for forgetting my eco-friendly reusable canvas-and-mesh grocery totes that eased these trying quests.
My mind flashed to their location: hanging on an antique hook in my pantry closet, forgotten from my grocery trip last week. I’d known I would need to move them back to my car, my beloved 1998 Isuzu Mysterious Utility Wizard, but in my haste of life, love, and running the laundromat I’d inherited from my late Grandfather only a month ago, I’d forgotten them...
Forgotten. Lonely. Lightly dusted by now, no doubt. I swore I would never forget the things that meant most to me, the things that served me. Not after he’d forgotten me-
“Failure,” I internalized.
I hadn’t realized the sweat that had formed on my brow, from the frustration, fear of what I knew was coming, or the blazing Southern sun, I didn’t know.
I wiped the sweat clean off with the back of my hand. I heaved and leaned down towards the plastic billowing in the wind once more. It might’ve looked graceful had I not felt their challenge radiating like a polluting pulse.
I picked up my challengers with sweat-slick hands and swore.
The bags were heavier than I’d anticipated.
“Come on,” I gritted.
Fearing failure once again, I dug deep into myself, into who I was, and remembered my strength.
I’d first known of my strength in Grade 2 tee-ball. Sally Munchkin had pointed at me, laughed at me in front of everyone when I didn’t hit the ball for the 5th time in a row (they gave us unlimited tries, but I was reaching an invisible limit that they would soon enforce). She scrunched up her nose like the cruel pig she was and guffawed loud enough for everyone on the field to hear. In a fit of embarrassment and rage, I swung that ball right at her face. I imagined the ball permanently deforming her nose into that scrunched position, a reminder to me of her cruelty and a warning to everyone else. I smiled wickedly.
Feeling the triumph from that day as if it’d just occurred, I knew I had it in me to carry all of these grocery bags in one go. I tightened my sweaty hands around the handles, head held high-
Breathe in, breathe out.
Hoisted up the bags higher-
If you can conquer Sally Munchkin, you can conquer this.
Took the first step towards home-
Make. Dad. Proud.
And dropped them all onto the pavement. My jaw slacked in disbelief.
“By the double-barrelled jumping jimiNETTY,” I cursed at the blazing Summer sun.
And I swear I could hear it guffawing at me in reply.