I am greeted by the familiar environs of the produce aisle. The typical run is on a Sunday to load up on ingredients for salads and I quick survey of the tri-colour peppers, roma tomatoes, spinach, English cuke, and zuke is enough before I venture to the canned fish aisle to get some protein to complete the meal. On a Friday night, the familiar setting causes me to bristle at timing, shelf life and routine. I am ultimately trying to prime myself for the survey of these surroundings, which overwhelm and disorient on this night.A turn down the next aisle is not unfamiliar but the terrain and shelves are limiting. My next goal is to find a chem-free children's soap, the shelves offer a false hope in a clear bottle but the text, even without my glasses features words that run too long to promise simplicity. It feels as if these shelves are intent to define me, ascribe to me a deficiency in sensitivity. There is the anxiety for a moment that these body wash will be caustic and prompt the stinging rashes that I had to balm and salve when he was three. I need something, however, so I settle and with a shrug take the bottle with the surfing kids. The boy is in a two piece body suit that reminds me of him looking up at me, three years old, his eyes plaintive with a vulnerability that a pouting underwear model would envy. I toss it in the cart, but wonder if this place has a mere smidgen more selection that a gas station convenience store. This will tide us over. It's a "for now." It'll actually last for 4 months or sit ignored in the shower indefinitely until he is 14.
As I peck away here, I realize that I'd forgotten toilet paper. I assumed it would be near the paper towel but turned up nothing during my sortie through that section of the store. I found the toothpaste that my son normally uses at home but was unable to match a Star Wars toothbrush to it for a complete set. Instead, a pair of Minion-themed brushes that make do but assert that these will not be right, will not be the same as they'd be if they were replacing the Stormtrooper brush he currently has when it is deemed well-used, expired. These are the "other" brushes that will never be the same because they will be part of unwelcome change and difference. I plant both brushes on their suction-cupped ends, so the lad can have a choice in at least that. "Do you want the one-eyed Minion, or the two-eyed." This lack of pop-culture precision will echo hollow as we adjust and proceed.
Beyond that there is the wilderness of school lunches. I pick up a package of pepperoni, promise myself to get cheese and then short circuit. There will be containers to get too and for a moment I am disoriented and awed by my wife's ability to navigate these aisles and those of the Costco with purpose and targets in mind. She is the one that seeks out the cleaner soaps in the natural food stores and ensure that the supply never runs out. I start with those and add a few yogourt drinks to interest him and treat him for lunches. I wonder if all of these will be points of resistance in the renegotiate of terms.
I was the one who comforted him as we cried four nights ago. I told him he was amazing; that I was proud of the fact that he was one of the kids that parent directed their children to hang out with, because he was a good way to stay out of trouble. He told me I was amazing too. I demurred on that one, familiar as I am with my flaws.
The luncheon meats stumped me and left me wondering if he would eat these and finish the lunches I would find myself preparing or if I would bear a black mark of some arbitrary falling short. I feel for the buy one, get one free bait and discerned the chicken and turkey breast as better options when compared to the various hams.
The cart fills. Indulgences get put back. Frozen waffles get into the cart, though there is no toaster yet. The broom and dust pan are acknowledged for a future visit and the items are lugged to self-checkout and I fill five bags. The pans and cleansers go into the backpack and the other four fill with the food. I leave the cart at the door and lug the food the kilometre and change it is back to my new apartment.
