An Encounter

Juan Ciscomani's phone answerer in DC cannot speak for the Congressman so she couldn't tell me if he was planning to meet with his constituents during his 5 weeks at home.  I rolled that around in my head as I pushed my cart through the grocery store this morning.  

I was looking for artichoke hearts.  I found the vegetable aisle where, I assumed, the jars and cans would be arranged alphabetically.  Foolish me, the marinated mushrooms were closest to the end cap, right above the peas.  As I continued to the shelves, I passed a woman of a certain age.  She had a red and white cane with four rubber feet in her cart,  a handheld, white, 5" in diameter magnifying glass in one hand and a can of green beans in the other.

I found the artichokes, stood on my toes to reach them, and turned to put them in my cart.  That left me staring straight at that woman, who was moving the can back and forth, side to side, obviously trying to read the label.

The Cuters often tell me to mind my own business.  I rarely pay attention to their discomfort. 

Would you like some help with that?  

She was surprised, asked if I was sure I had the time, and then gratefully handed the can over to me.  We quickly identified that what she was holding was close but no cigar to what she wanted.  I found the whole beans, handed her the two cans she requested, then asked what was next on the list.

Oh, really, you've done enough already.

I laughed and said that the thought of her trying to find the rest of her list while peering through that itty bitty glass would haunt me to the end of my days if she didn't let me finish.  And so we went down the aisle, finding the beans and the corn and the tomatoes in just the right iterations.  

At the end of the aisle she assured me that she had everything she needed.  She didn't overdo the thank you's and I didn't reassure her that I didn't mind at all.  Instead, she gave me a gracious smile, I wondered if I could come over for the dish she was preparing, we laughed and move on.

There were five varieties of diced tomatoes in the 4oz cans; don't get me started on the 8oz and 16oz and jumbo sizes with or without a lot or a little salt, seasoning, or Italian names.  I spent the rest of my time in the store thinking about G'ma and hoping that someone, sometime, had gone just a little bit out of her way to help.  

She got all her cans and jars without too much trouble.  I got a warm feeling all around my heart for doing basically nothing at all.  I think it was a win win situation.