This week felt chaotic, unbalanced, messy. So, I asked Ken if we could each just pick one area of the house and try to restore some order.
He took our bedroom closet. I took the kitchen cabinets.
Four and half hours later, we had both restored as much order as we could tolerate for a single Saturday afternoon. Afterwards, Briggs took an uncommon late afternoon nap, and I volunteered to go grocery shopping on my own.
Navigating the aisles at Wegman’s was almost…meditative.
Being the day before “the big game” the store was crowded, and noisy, but only being responsible for my list and me also made it calm and peaceful.
Carefully choosing producing. Thoughtfully minding those shoppers keeping a speedier pace. Lovingly giving myself permission to wander into new sections. Suddenly, preparing for the week ahead didn’t feel like a chore at all.
Checking out took longer than usual – and there was an issue with one of my items, and the light above the register stayed blinking for minutes. The cashier apologized profusely, even after I let her know that her sorries were completely unnecessary.
After a bit more small talk about the approaching game, yesterday’s gorgeous sunset, and what I planned to do with that spaghetti squash, a lovely woman in an official Wegman’s royal blue polo came hustling over – continuing with the sorries.
As the cashier and I both assured her not to worry, I heard the cashier mutter:
“Great way to spend you birthday day, huh?”
The woman smiled. Then shrugged. “It’s just another day,” she whispered.
“I hear ya,” replied the cashier.
The woman in blue settled the product issue, loaded the last bag into the cart, and apologized for the delay one more time.
“I was happy to be here today,” I said. “And, Happy Birthday.”
She touched my arm and looked genuinely surprised. “Thank you. That’s just…thank you so much, really.”
I smiled and headed back to my car – feeling that restorative togetherness that’s been alluding me lately, finally checking in.