Saturday afternoon, we went for a quick trip to the grocery store to grab a few supplies before the arrival of a friend for a visit.  We split up in the store, with Joel grabbing ingredients and LG and I picking up some toilet paper.  LG and I were walking hand-in-hand, our winter jackets creating more rustle around us than necessary, walking at a comfortable pace for a six-year-old.  LG was happily telling me all about this claw toy he had in his hand, and I was obliging his story by holding the claw and pretending it was his hand.  Just then I heard quick footsteps behind us come to a rapid halt, and there was also a grocery supply cart in front of us that an employee was wheeling through the aisles.  I pulled LG aside to let the cart past us, and the owner of the rapid footsteps behind us sighed loudly and made a dramatic display of stepping around us and continuing on with her hurried pace.  While I was waiting for the cart to pass, I took a quick glance at the person that was in a hurry.  She was in her thirties, glossy brunette, dressed in a black sweater and a short skirt with black leggings and black ankle boots.  She had a silver necklace that was bouncing around wildly as she sprinted past us.  I kept following her trajectory because after we grabbed our item, we returned to the main aisle and waited on Joel, where she was bouncing back and forth grabbing last minute supplies.   I simultaneously felt annoyed, wistful, and happy.

Annoyed because it was 2:00pm on a Saturday afternoon, and couldn’t she see how silly she looked?  Brushing past people without a second thought, too consumed with her own plans and in a hurry?  Wistful because I could totally identify with that.  I used to do that.  I used to make a big display, all dressed up with somewhere to go, ensuring that other people knew how busy and important I was by hurrying past them in my high heels and a suit.  Now I was walking at a slow pace, in the company of a sweet six-year-old, oblivious to the world around him other than his current adventure he was on.  I was dressed down with an unfashionably big coat on, far from chic.  Happy, because I felt that even though I might return to that life sometime in the future (big and important and with places to go), I recognized that I could also feel the same way but be kind in the way I was displaying it.  It does nothing to brush past an elderly person in a hurry other than to probably hurt that person’s feelings.  It does nothing to sigh loudly and presumptuously at the person in front holding a child’s hand, other than to make that parent feel demeaned.  A person can be big and important with places to go and people to see, and be nice and courteous in their actions.  After all, under the guise of acting big and important, you may fail to see the bigger moments and the more important people that are around you.

Just some thoughts as I am feeling myself transition into different roles and ideas. 

12/7/2010 05:34:33 am


a slow breath in and out
wipe a tear away

I'm thinking on this

must say
hope that 30's girl-sometime in the future-has the good fortune to hold a child's hand and be happy for just doing that. she should be so lucky.

12/7/2010 11:31:33 am

this is your blog and no one else writes ....... silly people
just wanted to let you know that we have a 71/2 week old black lab!
our days are full of "puppy breath"
sleepless nights
massive snow storms and 3 a.m. pee breaks on icey driveways

he sits before and after leashing, comes to a "3 whistle call"
doesn't touch food until we say "OK, go" and is a pant hem biter!


2/6/2011 02:28:17 pm

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