I could see from her cart that she was just about finished shopping. As she put back a roast on sale and picked up a pound of ground beef, the toddlers began to cry for candy.
Not tonight," she said.
Her voice was rich, surprisingly rich, and husky, but it sounded tired, too, like the troubles of the world weighed it down. She pushed away a strand of hair again and reached into her bag for her wallet. She looked at the cart, glanced at the contents of the wallet, and shrugged to herself. I so wanted to hand her a twenty and tell her to buy the roast and the ground beef, but I knew in my heart she would never take a handout from a stranger. She probably wouldn't even take one from her own family. It was clear she was proud and struggling as she gathered her brood together and headed for the check stands.
A watched her disappear down the cracker aisle and remembered my own days as a young mother. They seemed nothing like hers. My husband had a good job, I didn't have to work, and I never took the children out shopping late at night. They were well dressed, well fed, and some would say pampered. They certainly grew up to be remote, selfish, and demanding. I suppose I babied them, Richard always said I did. Now, Richard is gone, and like a ship sailing alone, I'm adrift and ill at ease...
Perhaps I should have talked to the girl, and offered my services as a babysitter. Lord knows, I could use the company. Here we were, two women at opposite sides of life, both looking for something we could not find at the local market. Like two ships that pass in the night, I thought, as I closed my eyes and remembered the aroma of baby powder.
I could hear them before they rounded the aisle, the children, both toddlers, were screaming as loud as the red-faced baby.
It was late, the store was deserted, and I just needed a few things. Unable to sleep, I'd jumped in the car and driven to the market just to take my mind off my loneliness.
What on earth were those children doing up this late at night?, I thought to myself. What kind of a mother drags three tiny children to the market near midnight?
If there's anything I can't stand, it's a screaming baby on a plane or in a supermarket. That's just what I heard when I entered the store. It was so loud and jarring, I thought about leaving, but I was all out of coffee.
Ahead of me, a small family blocked the aisle. As one of the toddlers begged for candy, the exasperated mother slapped him hard across the face, and he screamed out loud. I turned my cart and headed for the manager's office.
