One Grocery Store Run Away
The automatic doors opened into Publix, and color hit me. Rose buckets lined the entrance — white, pink, yellow — and beyond them, carnations, peonies, and purple hydrangeas clustered together under the fluorescent hum like they were trying to remember what sunlight felt like. On an end cap stood two teenagers holding a white, ornate vase full of dangling orchids, deciding whether $50 was worth the spend, or if they should go with a bouquet for half the price. Either way, their mother must have been worth the spend because they looked at one another in complete agreement that the orchids were the choice for tonight’s last-minute find. I felt joy deep in my belly, shooting up into my heart, as I watched one grip the vase and the other nod as they walked away. My eyes welled as I envisioned their mother smiling from ear to ear as she squeezed them and kissed their cheeks for the reminder that they do, in fact, appreciate her. Joy quickly turned into longing as I realized my son wouldn’t be spending Mother’s Day with me again. I swallowed hard. Charlene, the voice that keeps me grounded whenever I dive too deep into a feeling, and I have things to do, said, “Not here. Go get the shrimp.” I quickly made my way to the seafood section.
As I approached the seafood counter, I noticed that the case was significantly empty. Just my luck, they would be closing while I got emotional in the floral section. I asked the attendant, " Is the counter closed? He looked me in the eyes; they were a bit watery, and he responded with compassion, saying, “If you want shrimp, I can wrap up what we have.” I had two options of shrimp to choose from: Argentinian or Brown. Lucky for me, I went in with Argentinian on my mind. As I stared at both options, I couldn’t help but think about how my life as a mother had moved into two options: doing the right thing for my son or being selfish. Each time these options were presented to me, I chose to do the right thing, even though it left a gaping hole in my chest.
Some sacrifices don't announce themselves with drama. They arrive quietly, dressed in love and obedience — love for the person you'd move mountains for and obedience to God, who asked you to trust Him. As a mother navigating life after divorce, I had to choose the well-being of my son over my wants more times than I can count. I made the sacrifice. Not perfectly. Not without grief. But I made it. It has left me feeling simultaneously full and empty, certain and heartbroken, faithful and human.
I haven’t found the silver lining yet. But the flower section found the hole I thought I ran away from. Turns out, it was just one grocery store run away. I chose both shrimp.
Where is the hole you've been one grocery store run away from?