It is going on 18:00; a little late for
espresso, but it seemed like a good
idea at the time. Not quite cool, as
I’ve been sipping it for a while. It
is fresh ground espresso, but I made
a mug of coffee with hazelnut
creamer. My focus was off today. My
thought life was atrocious. So, I was
determined to make the espresso.
Driven was more like it. Frustrations
of my life slammed coffee stuff around
like a berserk barista. One extra scoop
for good measure! I made a grocery run;
the store was packed. If you normally
don’t fidget what does it mean when
you do? I started to fidget in a very
long, very slow checkout line. My
regular cookies weren’t on the shelf.
Just before that, the beef bologna
wasn’t in its normal spot. I looked
for a longtime. I approached the
worker to my left, “Hi, how ya doing
today?” He turned, grinned, and
said loudly, “Excellent!” “Good.
Maybe it moved or I missed it but
the beef bologna is usually there.”
I pointed. He stroked his chin,
“Ya know. You are right.” He
patiently looked through about
three rows of packages. He found
one. “You don’t need more than
one, do you? I think that’s the last
one.” He handed it to me. I checked
the expiration date, “No. One is
great! Thanks.” My olives had
sale tags; her cereal had a sale
tag. I put a big bag of organic
carrots she wanted in the cart.
It felt like a small bag of kindling.
One or two more things and I was
done. To checkout. They needed a
traffic cop. Crazy. As I looked at
all the people and the checkers,
I felt like I was in a segment from
“Resident Evil” surrounded by the
walking dead. No pistol. No shotgun.
Just me and my cart. That must have
been when I started getting fidgety.
I was hoping the guy in front of me
with the bulging neck wouldn’t
turn around. I was sure he didn’t
have a face. He was all neck with a
1950’s buzz cut. I had to make it to
the cashier portal or I was doomed.
“Do you want this in a bag?” I knew
it. If I answered wrong, she would
close the portal and I’d be wandering
this store for eternity. I bit my lip.
“No. No bag for that. Thanks.” She
smiled. The next thing I knew, I was
in the car. I always try to park near
one of those cart returns to make it
easier. I was way out there today.
Fidgets cause of no lunch? I ate when
I got home. One sandwich. Bologna,
thin Pepper Jack, with butter instead
of mustard. And three olives. A mug of
Irish Breakfast. I decided to calm down
by reading a selection from Streams in
the Desert for today. It was written by
a poet who died in 1927. I couldn’t find
her; but I found her words to be joyful
remembering that God lives brought me
back to center. (Garage door going up.
She is pulling in. Time to go.)
The espresso helped. But her poem
helped me more today. As a young girl
around 1870 or so, what she knew to
be true, she shared with me today.
I’m grateful. True then; true now.
Peace flooded over me as it did her.
Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)
I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)