The Shopping Cart Syndrome

There I was, pushing my cart through the grocery store, when I spotted him.  Him being a guy from all the way back in high school.  I’m 99% sure it was him – no, make it 99.9%.  He was even wearing the same style jacket I remember he wore constantly back then.  Hmmm, his style hasn’t changed.  This was where the change was – he was walking beside a young woman who was pushing a cart with a bouncing baby in the seat.  I know I caught his eye & he probably thought what I was thinking, “I know that person from high school, but what’s their name?”  I totally knew this guy back then, but now couldn’t conjure his name for anything.  Not that I’d have gone up & met the family or anything – I didn’t know him that well. 

It’s times like these, as I browse the frozen dinner section, & ponder the lives of others, that I naturally think upon my own empty cart seat – well, my purse is there, but it’s no baby {if I bounce it around the clattering of loose change could sorta sound like cooing & gurgling {in some strange, paranormal universe way}, but I digress} - & my naked left-hand ring finger.  It’s hard not to.  It’s like when you’re shopping & you spy something in someone’s cart & you think, “Oh, I’ve gotta get one of those, too” or “Whoops, I almost forgot to pick one of those up!”  It reminds you of what you don’t have & need or merely want.  Only this time, you can’t speed over to aisle 4 to pick up said item.  That’s definitely something out of another world… shopping for guys, like they were Ken dolls.  I can see it now, “I’ll take the Island Adventure one with the fadeless tan!  And look, he’s on sale!”  I guess some girls do treat guys like that {& vice versa}.  But, as for me & my cart, we will trust in the Lord’s timing!

Love,

-Bess-