lxforever

“I run so fast / a shot gun blast / can’t hurt me not one bit / I’m on my toes / ’cause heaven knows / a moving target’s hard to hit // So as we play / in life’s ballet / we’re not the dying swan / we just move on / we move on!”

—Chicago

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas / Let your heart be light / From now on your troubles will be out of sight”

—Hugh Martin, Ralph Blane, Judy Garland

“Christmas time is here / we’ll be drawing near / Oh, that we could always see / such spirit through the year / Oh, that we could always see / such spirit through the year”

—A Charlie Brown Christmas

It was madness, feeling rushed and feeling stressed. Cars angling for parking spots, keys jangling in pockets as there was hurry, hurry, hurry everywhere. I was already in a foul mood, for reasons I couldn’t fully explain, and the flaking snow on a suburban parking lot buzzing with the adrenaline of consumption surely wouldn’t help matters.

Chicago on the stereo as a palate cleanser. I parked the car by the gym. Everyone somewhere else as they were there, minds congealing over invisible to-do lists, mundane tasks real or imagined, fitting in just one more thing (or maybe that was just me). My mood clung to me, like a bad smell, wound tight around my shoulders, chasing me into the store.

The yogurt, the gift cards, the ibuprofen—check in with the pharmacy, was the prescription ready? no?—back to the aisles, the basket overflowing, back to the pharmacy, to stand in a line of now seven, to put in a dinner order on the phone while I wait. Busy busy busy. One more thing done.

“Fitzgerald or Link?” said the pharmacist, and my mood began to lift. I was back in the present, for a moment; this woman was nice, and I could be, too. I thanked her and dashed away, the basket straining my arm.

As I walked to the checkout, a man appeared behind me, a lone can of Pringles in his hand. “Okay, you have to go ahead of me,” I insisted, “because Pringles are worth it.” “Thank you, ma’am,” he said.

The checker moved the purchases ahead of us, and the gentleman got to talking. Said he wanted a snack while he waited for his girlfriend, said he’d wait for her to shop, have some chips in the car. “I can’t stand this Christmas thing,” he said. “Spending money we don’t have. I can’t wait for it to be over.” He was friendly, he wasn’t sad, he was just being honest.

“Well, just six days to go,” I told him, and he smiled as the Pringles were scanned. A small problem with the payment, I recalled my own screw-up the week before, but it all smoothed out and we bid one another goodbye. Guadalupe rang up my basket next.

Guadalupe was one of those fast checkers you don’t expect, and I complimented her speed. “It’s so amazing to me when you all know all those four-digit codes, like, beep bop beep boop!” She laughed, and she was so kind she made me laugh, too. We chatted about the day, about learning on the job, and away I went.

Lightened and brightened. Palate cleansed and ready to enjoy it all again. Thanks to a man buying Pringles and an adorable checkout girl named Guadalupe.

This journal was posted on Thursday, December 21st, 2017 at 9:55 pm. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.