Went to Purlescence’s yarn swap and got to see friends I haven’t seen in ages! I’m so glad I went. I sent good yarn off to new homes and brought none home.
Meantime, Richard has had a fever the last two days and someone had to get some groceries–not much, but some. Rhubarb to go with the strawberries in the cobbler I wanted to make (and did). There’s only one place I know I’ll definitely find that.
So I waited till 5:30 and headed off for the partially outdoors Milk Pail.
The place has maybe half a dozen shopping carts, cute little miniatures; there’s just no room for more. Baskets, they have lots of plastic baskets to carry around.
I always remember after I get there just how hard it is for me in there: visual overload, tight spaces, and the brain that had the visual and balance connections not entirely mended since my car accident. My sense of which way up is is tactile. And I am always, always bumped into in there.
There was one last cart to steady me–but a boy of about six or seven never saw me and ran ahead and grabbed it with glee and wheeled it to his mom, and I’m not about to do anything to tell a kid not to do right by his mother.
I turned back, but another woman saw. She had a cart, and in a–German?–accent she offered it to me.
It was a lifeline: I could make it through this place and I thanked her.
She didn’t seem to want to be thanked, just let her go about her business.
Oh okay.
We passed each other a minute or two later and I smiled and nodded and her face registered as yeah yeah whatever. I hoped she didn’t have a sore back or some such that might make her need that cart too; I hoped she had no regrets.
But it seemed like it just wasn’t a big deal to her. It was to me, of course.
Back to our anonymous shopping.
While I said a silent prayer upwards to the Love who treasures our best impulses that her day might go easier as mine had through her.