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Sonya
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Today I went to the supermarket and as I walked through the automated doors pushing a fat shopping cart, I felt the rush of the air conditioning sweep my black hair up as if I was one of those artificial magazine cover models. A strange feeling considering I was just regular old Sonya in my fairy shirt and old jeans.
At the produce section I picked out some Gala apples (the ones that are red and green simultaneously). As I was picking them out I noticed a couple of people staring at me. For some reason not many people my age frequent the supermarket here. I guess everyone's too busy living off of top ramen or pizza. I felt their eyes on my skin and hair and despite feeling out of place I went about my business. I smelled the apples and picked up a bottle of Odwalla.
Most people were shopping for junk food for their Superbowl parties. I'm not really that excited about this event because I'll be at work on Sunday helping people find things like chenille sweaters in size medium or pairs of childrens' Spiderman underwear in size 6.
The floors of the grocery store were waxed so much that they were almost blinding when I looked down at my feet. They seemed even brighter than the lights on the ceiling. It's almost as if all of us were walking on the ceiling in some trippy dream reminiscent of a Dali painting.
I passed by the floral section that was set up for Valentine's day and felt a little sad, but at the same time I was happy too. The rose bouquets were all squeezed tightly together and the edges of each petal ran into the flower next to it. It was like looking at a lake of roses...crimson, pale pink, yellow, ivory, brick red....melting and flowing into each other. I thought that the roses themselves must feel so comforted because they have each other to lean on....
I saw excited toddlers with their parents, older children saying "I want _____" and their parents calmly but sternly saying, "No we aren't getting that today."
I reached the checkout aisle and unloaded my cart. (It was mostly filled with juices and breakfast stuff since I'm running short.) The cashier was a man of about 45 with grey hair and a trimmed moustache. He wore black rimmed glasses like me except his lenses were a little wider.
I told him, "I wish I was allowed to bring a chair or something in here so that way you could sit down on it every now and then. I know what it's like to stand up all day because I work at Ross." He smiled at me and just didn't say anything after that as he scanned my stuff.
When he handed me my receipt he said, "Thank you" but it wasn't in that usual dull routine way. He actually meant it. A few drops of empathy can go a long way. Thus concluded my adventure at the supermarket.
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030124
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