It was a trip to the grocery store – the kind that generally makes me sick with anxiety before I ever even walk through the door. Grocery shopping for a family of six is about as much fun as a root canal, but shopping with those family members can cause temporary insanity. Today it was just Colby and myself, out to enjoy what he called some well-earned “Mommy and Me Time.”
We were heading for the shredded cheese when I saw him. He was an elderly man in a motorized cart, sitting with his head in his hands as if he had been struck by the world’s worst migraine while in the dairy section. I stopped for a moment and watched him to make sure he wasn’t just taking a break or waiting for a family member to join him. I looked around; no one seemed alarmed. Many looked his direction while they browsed through the bacon and lunch meat, but they turned and went the other way as if the bread aisle would be empty if they didn’t get there immediately. And still he sat, head in his hands, seeming lost.
I motioned for my son to follow me and we walked up to the gentleman who was oblivious to us while he cradled his forehead in his hands. I touched him softly on the shoulder and asked if he were okay.
“My back went out. I’m waiting on another one of these,” he said, motioning to the little scooter buggy he sat in. In the basket was some lunch meat and cheese, nothing else.
I assured him that I just wanted to make sure he was okay, and looked around for the family member I assumed was coming to help him. I could see a young H-E-B employee, no older than 18, driving a motorized buggy our direction. Not a family member, I realized, but a store employee. This gentleman was shopping alone.
He had a small list in his hand, to which I offered to fill for him as he sat.
“I’m just embarrassed to be seen in one of these,” he said, and I remembered how worthless and useless my grandparents felt when they lost their independence and did much of the same. “I hope no one sees me.”
“You’re talking to someone who often shops in her pajamas, so I completely understand,” I told him, laughing, while the H-E-B employee drove up the new buggy. I asked the gentleman if he needed help switching seats, and he told me no, but almost instantly changed his mind. So I asked my 8-year-old to transfer the contents of one buggy to the next while I helped this man, holding softly on his back but afraid to cause him more pain. The new buggy looked identical to the one he had just abandoned, but he swore to me that it was better. And then he apologized, noticing that we had blocked an entire aisle.
“They can move around us,” I assured him. “The probably need to slow down anyway.”
The man thanked me, and told me if I needed to apply for a job there. I laughed, not wanting to say something silly like “I already have a job,” and told him I would probably just make a mess of things. He looked at the young employee who likely was thinking about nothing but clock-out time and said: “You should hire her.”
And then he made my heart melt.
He looked at my son and said, “You have a wonderful mother.”
And my son replied with, “Thank you. I know.”
We left the man then with me assuring him that I’d be in the store if he needed anything else. We crossed his path occasionally, waving at him in the condiment or soup aisles. I asked my son if he knew why what we did was important. He replied: “We helped someone.”
But that was such a small token.
We were watching, I told him.
We saw what no one else saw.
We decided to make a brave move when no one else bothered looking.
We told him he had nothing to be embarrassed about, calming a fear he’d likely had all day.
We forgot about ourselves and put someone else first.
We may have made the day for someone else, and it only took three minutes.
I’ve never left a grocery store feeling as good as I did today.
The Mom Spot 