My five-year-old granddaughter didn’t have kindergarten today. I needed to pick up groceries and cat food. When was the last time I took Lily heavy-duty shopping?
“Did you bring your grocery list, Babcia?” she wanted to know. I’d never known her mother to make one, I thought.
“Where’s the list?” Blonde-little-Miss-know-it-all stared me down.
My hands fumbled in my purse. Crooked fingers fastened onto the photograph-sized spiral notebook I’d decided to use, to alleviate lost grocery lists, to keep growing book wish lists, things to remember and do, etc.
“Here it is.” I thrust it under her nose.
“Eggs, salad, popcorn,” she announced, still not knowing how to read. When had she become so loud?
I picked up Romaine—the best of the worst in the pile. “Salad, check,” Lily shouted. We passed basil. I grabbed a package. “What’s it for?” she demanded. I explained, and she approved. Lucky it’s her favourite herb.
As we arrived in the snack aisle, Lily broadcast, “Babcia, right there. Popcorn, check.”
“Thank YOU, Lily. I’m going to buy two bags so we never run out. What do you think?” I blurted. Why do I need to validate myself? She gave me the thumbs up. Who is this child?
As we approached the refrigerated area, Lily’s eyes lit up, “Babcia,” she pointed. Eggs, check!”
Red wine vinegar and artichokes called to me so I backtracked to the proper aisle. “What is that?” she asked.
“ You remember the spread you liked on the Focaccia bread at your sister’s birthday party?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said with a dreamy glow in her eyes, her sweet lips puckered.
“I already have a bottle of red wine vinegar, but I need another one,” I said aloud. Why am I explaining this to a five-year-old?
Cat food next. Two grocery stores with no luck regarding what I needed. A pet store later, more expensive, I know, but kitty gets to eat. Success at last.
~ * ~
The point of this story is the lifting into and out of grocery carts. My featherweight granddaughter is killing my back. Add lugging twenty-pounds of dry cat food, then groceries, and stooping to hang onto my precious girl. These are no longer ordinary feats for me. Add again, up and down the stairs at home to unload everything. I don’t understand how something I didn’t see (coming) crashed and almost pulverized me—at least today. Six or so months ago, my experience hadn’t had anywhere near a similar affect.
Does this mean I’m starting to fall apart?
Already? I’m not even that close to one hundred yet!