Shopping

I have been living in Omaha for a little over 2 weeks now. I still can’t get over the fact that there is a grocery store, one with a bank inside it no less, only a minute from my apartment. One of my personal goals for the next few months is to gain back the five pounds I lost while student teaching, so I frequent No Frills on my way home from work every few days. The parking lot is always half full at 7 o’clock in the evening and I park in the middle. My coat is still zipped to my chin from the short trek between Compass and my car, so I drop my keys into my purse and slide into the cold. I hit the lock button on my way out. It aggravates me a little each time I lock my car, just like I were some city slicker, but I promised everyone I would be safe and not stupid. Somehow I feel like I am betraying my trust in mankind when the lock on my car shows how little trust I have, but beating up a hobo who decided to camp in my backseat or losing my precious car radio are not good options either. So the grain of sand rubs a little against the skin of my heart and grows into what I hope will one day be a pearl of something beautiful from these ashes we live in.

The tinkle of bells greets my ears as I scurry across the parking lot. I hear everything. The Salvation Army bell ringers. The women yelling obscenities at each other in front of the hair salon. The sirens wailing down Saddle Creek. The banging of car doors and resonating thump of subwoofers. Somehow it all blends together with each sound distinctly penetrating my consciousness. As I smile at the young man, bundled to the ears while ringing the Salvation Army bells, I can’t help but wonder if the women yelling sound like his mother or sisters to him. I wonder if I know the song the thumping subwoofers are playing. I think of Rosie and how she prays every time she sees an ambulance or hears a siren and with a wry smile I note that around here she would never stop praying.

Like everyone else, I half rush, half loiter my way through the store. At times I know what I am looking for and march straight for it. At other times I saunter, watching the other shoppers as much as the aisle signs. I pass a young couple discussing shrimp. He is an expert and she believes it. I can see his self-esteem bloom right there in the frozen aisle. An ebony face smiles patiently at me from behind the deli counter. While he is weighing out my sliced turkey he asks me how my day is going. When I applaud him for getting exactly 1.02 pounds on the first try he almost blushes. As he wraps it up he says he is thankful for being out of the cold and that today is warmer than yesterday. He smiles a fatherly smile when he wishes me a good evening. I had hoped to be cheerful and make his day, but I knew as I walked toward the checkout he had made mine. Lowell is my cashier. It must be the day for talkative people. I ask how he is and he replies, “Just getting ready for a very interesting holiday season.” The way he drags out the ‘e’s in ‘interesting’ suddenly make me think of Long Island. “What is going to be so interesting about it?” I query. “Oh, Honey, family will be involved. That is always interesting…” I am still chuckling when I wish a good night to the bell ringer.

Every scent assaults my nostrils on my way to the car. Burning rubber from the street, exhaust, a whiff of cologne, the fabric softener from the laundry mat, an inundating amount of sesame oil from the Chinese take-out. I am craving Chinese food but the smell of that much sesame oil keeps me from ordering. Looking down at me from 6 blocks east is Saint Cecilia’s. A pale orange glow reflects off her white stone steeples emanating a sense of peace and watchfulness reminding me that God does see everything that happens in this city. I slip my keys into the driver’s door and the grain of sand rubs just the tiniest bit. These are all people. People like me, who want to go home to a happy place, pay their bills, eat their dinner, and be at peace. I lock the doors of my car to them, but the doors of my heart are starting to realize there is far more to open than I dreamed. The smile behind the deli counter, the laughter at the checkout, the little fingers intertwining with mine at Compass 20 minutes before, the women in the parking lot, the subwoofers, the man I didn’t see but whose cologne I smelled. Humanity. God loves them all and I am left with the question, how in every situation He gives me, how can I?