Spring has been doing what spring does. Anymore I don’t even think about plants or flowers until May comes around. The weather forecast predicts temperatures next week in the high 80’s and even low 90’s, which I find almost laughable in these expanding days of 40-50 degree drizzles. This evening, my daughter and I paused by the flowers and herbs in the outdoor tent beside the local County Market, but not for long.
Regularly stored bathroom items were in need of replenishing. Also on my list was mouthwash, floss sticks, toilet paper, and ice cream. Most of that we picked up at Walgreens, along with another round of vitamins, which wasn’t on my list until I saw them and remembered the ones I bought last month were already almost gone. My daughter eyed a bag of dried apricots, then put them back. We skipped the ice cream.
We walked through the grocery store, picking up a few personal snacks. There is a phenomenon of food not lasting long enough to stay full. I remember the knowing of similar days. I told her she needed to talk to her aunt Jess about marking your territory when sharing a fridge with other food consuming people. She was always better at recognizing her need to be separate, writing her name on food in permanent marker.
Into the cart we placed bananas, oranges, granola, yogurt. One of the sets of bananas was more yellow, and the other more green to hopefully last a little longer. When we were loading bags into the car I once again thought about the ease with which I swipe this card and money is just there to buy whatever it is I’ve brought to the counter. I told her that girls need to be spoiled sometimes. I meant more to say that she was loved.
I didn’t see the college aged girl politely waiting for me to finish loading so she could get into her car. I moved faster, climbing back into the passenger seat. The Christian radio station played as we maneuvered out of the grocery store parking lot. We commented on the occasional radio predictability. I opened up my phone to put on Nichole Nordeman. It wasn’t long and we were home. Dad carried for me the heavier bags.