The Other Day...

The Other Day... I was foodshopping. As I went to check out, I met a new cashier. Oh, by the way, how I meet new cashiers is that I rotate where I shop. It's not necessarily for lower prices. Its actually to save on time and gas dollars. I'd been doing this mindful shopping since I could drive in 1980, even though my mother wanted me to get my license the year before as I could have. I just didn't want to rush the responsibility of driving too soon. It was as well as I was aware of pollution and the usage of fossil fuels.

So, the other day as I'd finished up shopping I headed to the cashier who'd not had anyone in line. All other cashiers were busy. She, Roxy as was on her name tag. Her set up was next to the customer service desk. 

Roxy appeared old-fashioned in the sense you could tell that she took pride in her appearance by her makeup. It was what I'd witnessed as a child in the 1960s. 

Roxy appeared near my age. Yet I realized she may be about 8-10 years my senior. I'd had good sized order, because I try to shop least often to not waste gas, time, effort and money. Yet, I enjoy foodshopping immensely. I see it as an incredible privilege. 

Privilege? Privilege. Privilege, because I can spend money that I need to spend in order to survive. I've always looked at foodshopping as a gift. Its always a good high for me. Its comparative to opening the door on a beautiful morning as rain begins to fall. The rain pitter-patters in its dance to the surfaces. The smell of the rain's first landing is incredible. There's something grand about it. And unless you're me, you might not understand running in the rain as refreshing, grinding, vilifying, embracing, freeing, and a blessing all at once. 

If you've burnt your feet in the desert, running across its potentially hot macadam of 150 to well over 200 degrees, its the pause you take for even a hot cup of crushed saltines in chicken broth that reminds you that you can take another step or a thousand or a million steps more. The heat from the broth when your body remains at 101-102 degrees, or higher is a welcome. Its nutrition. Its your wheels when on foot, even in the desert for miles.

And that hot cup of 'joe' with the perfect fake creamer, and dastardly white overprocessed sugar brings your soul to even higher level. That's foodshopping for me. Its a new start. Its a new life every time.

So, back to Roxy. She waved me on to her lane, smiling at me. I smiled back, yet I still wear a mask when I enter big markets. I have had auto-immune issues since after my spinal surgery and hip graphing in 1993 due to the crime committed against me. Yet, I'd not ever thought of wearing a mask in foodshopping with any regularity until after Covid. That is since I have had reactions to shots other than the traditional vaccines. When Norman and I went to China, even having Hep A and Hep B vaccinations done separately, I'd still had a reaction. I'm allergic to eugenol, which is used quite often in dentistry. It took 25 years for us to figure that out. So, now the mask wearing in big market areas has helped me a ton. I have friends in the medical field who are older than I am and they do the same when entering big market places. We calculate, time spent, number of people and the space, we may or may not have.

As Roxy was checking, scanning the items I'm purchasing, I'm bagging. We make small talk. Which to me is quite big. That is because I get to hear her story. Her life. Her generation. Even if it's my generation. ---Jody-Lynn Reicher