grocery stores are more interesting that i initially thought it to be. i usually walked in with a frustrated sigh but today was different. today i walked in with both eyes open, not knowing why.
there was a lady and her elderly mother. i saw the mother's walker in the cart she was pushing. at first i thought, 'what the hell is she doing pushing a cart?'. but then i remembered how my grandma was, how all elderly chamorro women are. they live in their strength, can't seem to accept the fact that they're deteriorating. i felt ashamed walking past them but my schedule wouldn't allow following an old, stubborn woman through a horrendously long aisle of nuts. i smiled a respectful typical Chamorro smile and went on my way. the daughter seemed to understand and returned the gesture.
while choosing cucumbers, i bump into this young boy, maybe the age of eight or nine. he was the chubbiest kid i've seen in a while and that's saying something considering i live on guam, where spam is a cupboard staple. he also had the most electric smile. i couldn't help but smile with him when he was begging his dad to get him some doritos.
a woman maybe in her mid-thirties had a whole cart but only about ten items. nine out of ten of the items were almond joy. what could one woman possibly do with all that almond joy? and while i was waiting to be rung up, i thought about it. what if she wasn't all there and only fed her kids almond joy for dinner? considering it has a serving of fruit, dairy and protein. triple-whammy, right? or what if she was lonely? she would return to an empty apartment, greeted maybe by an old cat who would rub against her expensive business suit. she would sit, watch re-runs of 'friends' and wished she had someone to fight with over the almond joy.
my basket was getting heavy and i suppose the gentleman in front of me noticed. 'why don't you go ahead and put your basket on the belt? i don't mind one bit.' i thanked him and placed my groceries down and see a red line across my bruised forearm. 'just great, another mark'. then i take a glance at his groceries that were already taken out of his cart and ready to be rung up. baby shrimp, cocktail sauce, extra firm tofu and a bottle of liquor. this one was lonely too. almost seemed too anxious to start up a conversation with me, so i picked up a trashy gossip magazine and looked semi-interested. i regretted not talking to him wheni watched him walk out the door, with his head down, making sure not to get his glasses wet.
we're all alone. we just dwell in our own loneliness that we fail to see that others need us just as bad as we need them.
i guess the whole world could be viewed differently if you were just more open to it.
there was a lady and her elderly mother. i saw the mother's walker in the cart she was pushing. at first i thought, 'what the hell is she doing pushing a cart?'. but then i remembered how my grandma was, how all elderly chamorro women are. they live in their strength, can't seem to accept the fact that they're deteriorating. i felt ashamed walking past them but my schedule wouldn't allow following an old, stubborn woman through a horrendously long aisle of nuts. i smiled a respectful typical Chamorro smile and went on my way. the daughter seemed to understand and returned the gesture.
while choosing cucumbers, i bump into this young boy, maybe the age of eight or nine. he was the chubbiest kid i've seen in a while and that's saying something considering i live on guam, where spam is a cupboard staple. he also had the most electric smile. i couldn't help but smile with him when he was begging his dad to get him some doritos.
a woman maybe in her mid-thirties had a whole cart but only about ten items. nine out of ten of the items were almond joy. what could one woman possibly do with all that almond joy? and while i was waiting to be rung up, i thought about it. what if she wasn't all there and only fed her kids almond joy for dinner? considering it has a serving of fruit, dairy and protein. triple-whammy, right? or what if she was lonely? she would return to an empty apartment, greeted maybe by an old cat who would rub against her expensive business suit. she would sit, watch re-runs of 'friends' and wished she had someone to fight with over the almond joy.
my basket was getting heavy and i suppose the gentleman in front of me noticed. 'why don't you go ahead and put your basket on the belt? i don't mind one bit.' i thanked him and placed my groceries down and see a red line across my bruised forearm. 'just great, another mark'. then i take a glance at his groceries that were already taken out of his cart and ready to be rung up. baby shrimp, cocktail sauce, extra firm tofu and a bottle of liquor. this one was lonely too. almost seemed too anxious to start up a conversation with me, so i picked up a trashy gossip magazine and looked semi-interested. i regretted not talking to him wheni watched him walk out the door, with his head down, making sure not to get his glasses wet.
we're all alone. we just dwell in our own loneliness that we fail to see that others need us just as bad as we need them.
i guess the whole world could be viewed differently if you were just more open to it.