I’ve spent some time telling you about my life. Today, I am sharing a bit of fiction.

Miriam pulled her cart to the side of the aisle, withdrew her shopping list and pen from her cross body purse then slid it behind her. Scanning the list, she let out a satisfied sigh. Her menu planning from yesterday would make the weekly shopping a snap. She tucked the pen behind her ear and pulled into traffic.

Most people liked to shop for groceries front to back. That is what they wanted you to do. Not Miriam. She started at the back in dairy and frozen goods. The prospect of groceries growing warm in her cart kept her on task. On Sunday morning the dairy aisle was a four lane highway that was all horns and no blinkers. Miriam placed her selection of cottage cheese in her cart and glanced at the snarl of cart traffic before her. The milk case on/off ramp was a mess, and a woman seemed to be inspecting each egg before selecting her carton. Miriam studied her list and waded in.

Parking her cart snuggly against the cream cheese display (who ate cream cheese in August anyway) she wove her way to the milk case. With a murmured “pardon me” and a smile that said the man in her way had no choice, she slid open the door, snagged a jug of skim, and went back to her cart. She repeated the maneuver for the eggs and pushed out of traffic to the frozen aisle.

Miriam was choosing between unsweetened blueberries and mixed berries for her smoothies when she heard “Just a minute honey, Mommy has to think.” She glanced from her list down the aisle and found herself staring into the eyes of a two or three year old little boy. He perched in the child’s seat of his cart, not clipped in she noticed. His hair was clean but needed a cut, his clothes tidy but too small, and thin soled shoes were laced to his dangling feet. She grabbed a bag of frozen fruit and casually passed the child and mother in the aisle. The mother was stacking frozen pizzas that were on sale into her cart.

In the baking aisle Miri gathered ingredients for next weekend when her son was coming home to visit with his new wife. The girl liked pie and she was happy to take the easy win and make one. She spotted the little boy as he passed the aisle, and caught up to him in the pasta section. Tension vibrated off the mother as Miriam passed her in front of the pasta sauce. The items marked for sale were all out and a glance told Miri all that was left was the overpriced stuff. Miri took in the young woman’s flip flops and thrift shop clothes. Then, pulling down her shirt in the back where her purse strap always rucked it up over her bottom, she turned to the next aisle and picked up the pace. She had warming milk to consider.

In the produce section Miriam picked up her mixed greens and avocados while watching the mother select a bag of potatoes and granny smith apples. Miri selected a few cookies and moved to the meat counter as the mother handed her son a free banana from the bin for kids. The sweet little Russian lady behind the meat counter handed Miri her low sodium ham and turkey as the mother ordered bologna and cheddar cheese from someone else. The mother pulled cash from her pocket and counted it while they cut the meat. Then she scanned her cart, squinting her eyes. She took the meat and cheese, but as they both moved towards the check out lanes Miriam saw her place them in the to-go-lunch cold case.

Miriam sighed, pursed her lips, and scanned the check out area for a manager. She flagged one down and they abandoned her cart after a brief chat to swiftly walk to the service counter. With a nod in the direction of the mother and child in line, Miriam left the manager a few minutes later and found a checkout lane. She placed her items on the belt, a worried hand feeling the milk like the forehead of a sick child. She shrugged, recalling the days when her children were as small as her budget. She scanned her list to ensure nothing was forgotten, paid and hurried home.