The supermarket is busy this morning. And this feels like old times.
During the pandemic, this store was an empty test tube. Employees used to stand by the entrance and take people’s temperatures with radar guns. Cashiers wore Darth Vader masks. Most shoppers hurried through these aisles like they were rushing for the last chopper out of Saigon.
But today, everything feels almost normal. I can’t begin to tell you how nice this feels.
I am in the vegetable aisle, translating the mysterious hieroglyphics my wife calls a shopping list when I notice a woman nearby. She is mid-thirties. She clutches the arm of a silver-haired woman who is pushing a buggy.
The younger woman wears Velcro tennis shoes and shuffles her feet without lifting them, and although it is summer she wears a stocking cap.
She addresses the older woman. “Mom, I need my grapes. Don’t forget my grapes.”
“Of course not, honey,” says Mom.
“You promised me grapes, Mom.”
“I know, sweetie. You’ll get your grapes.”
“Don’t forget.”
When the daughter sees an employee nearby, she makes eye contact. She shows a brilliant smile and waves.
She waves with her whole body. “Hi!”
The employee waves back.
The daughter practically shouts. “I’m Cheryl!”
“Nice to meet you, Cheryl.”
Cheryl is all smiles. “Okay! Bye!”
Mother and daughter leave the produce department.
Meantime, I am dutifully following my wife’s list, which carries me to the tomato sauce aisle where I am staring at roughly 32,384 varieties of canned tomato products.
In a few moments, mother and daughter enter the aisle. The daughter is still holding her mother’s arm and moving forward with a labored stagger.
The daughter is saying, “I don’t like orange juice with pulp, Mom. Please don’t buy that kind again, it’s yucky.”
“Please lower your voice, sweetie.”
“I don’t even know what pulp is. What is that gross stuff anyway, Mom?”
“Ssshhh. Inside voice, please.”
The…