Friday afternoon, after going to the bank — Pennsylvania still is not depositing my unemployment checks to my back account, despite updating my banking information three times — I stopped at the grocery store on the way home. I knew I needed to for some reason as I drove down Springwood Road, and then it occurred to me – I needed both milk and coffee creamer.
I stopped at Weis as I generally do, picked up a basket, looked at the “used” bakery goods at the back of the store, the ones that are at their sell-by date. A cream cheese danish thing I would have bought, but I was not interested in the cherry danish thing or the peach pie. Or the walnut muffins, though I was a bit more tempted by these than the cherry danish thing.
I went to the the dairy area in the back corner of the store, gave a quick glance at the coffee creamers in their regular section, then went to the featured endcap across from the dairy.
I was my usual oblivious self, looking at these coffee creamers and cookie doughs and egg nogs intently, off in my own little world. “I’ll need to go to Giant, I think,” I thought. “I don’t see the Shamrock egg nog I bought a year or two ago.”
“Excuse me,” I heard from behind-ish me, snapping me from my noggy reverie.
I turned to my left, and I saw an older woman seated in the motorized shopping cart. “Oh!” I said. “I’m sorry, I’m in your way. Not paying attention.” She couldn’t really have gone around; there was a display of something, Tasteekakes, I think, directly behind me. It was not a great layout.
I stepped back so she could go through.
“No,” she said. “Can you reach the coffee creamers for me?”
“Oh!” I exclaimed brightly. “Absolutely! What do you need?”
She told me she wanted the green bottle and she wanted to know what was in the blue bottle. I took out my reading glasses and read off the flavor of the blue bottle, she said that sounded delightful, and I put both the green bottle and the blue in her basket, which was quite full of other things, as well as her cane.
“Do you need help with anything else?” I asked. She said she didn’t and motored off on her way.
I picked up a bottle of peppermint mocha creamer and a half gallon of 1% milk. I then went to the yogurt section and thought about getting a container of Cabot’s Triple Cream Vanilla Bean Greek Yogurt which is so divine and decadent it must surely be a gift of Dionysius. I decided, however, that I didn’t need it, walked to the produce area on the other side of the store, then walked back to the yogurt aisle and put the Cabot yogurt in my basket. Against the power of this Greek yogurt I am weak.
I checked out and walked out with my two bags, and when I stepped into the parking lot I saw, in the handicapped space closest to the door, a minivan with its door open and the older woman, sitting in the motorized shopping cart.
I walked over to her, and I asked if she wanted any help.
She said she didn’t, she was okay, and I told her that I didn’t mind at all.
“In the seat or on the floor?” I asked.
“Wherever,” she said.
I started taking her groceries out of the basket and laid them on the floor.
“I have mobility issues,” she said.
I nodded. “My dad does, too. I understand.”
“I can’t reach things anymore.”
“We all need help sometimes. I’m glad I was here to help.” Her groceries situated, I picked up mine from the ground, and I wished her a merry Christmas.
I can’t explain why, but after this good deed, which came to me without a second thought, I felt sad and melancholy. Do something good, feel bad.
It’s a strange way to live.