Exercise #1: The Reluctant I: The Grocery

In this exercise, I used the pronoun I, me, or my only two-three times.
600+- words
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It is a sunny Friday morning.  The window behind my bed made sure that the sun’s rays would permeate my thin chiffon off-white curtains to reach my toes.  Right amount of warmth, and at the same time, the Christmas wind surround me and my room. What a comforting hug.  I needed that.  Today feels lucky.  Like today is just about a good combination of the simple things you’ve been wanting for a year now- that fine weather, the not so early but not so late time to wake up, the fact that there’s no work (perhaps only familial obligations), the chance to wear the newly bought sandals, time for that good, aromatic coffee.  The news reading for today is solely for leisure and not due to the need to be informative.  And yes, that once in a lifetime chance to just stare in space.  It’s okay now, it’s perfectly fine to just stare in space and those favorite rainy-day-marks that scarred your ceilings; favorite just because they seem to add character to that plain white ceiling.  And who wouldn’t love character?  Isn’t it that’s why you’ve gotten his attention in the first place?

But of course, everything that was just mentioned ran for around 20-30 minutes.  If you stay with your Mother for the holidays, she will make you realize that you’re living in her kingdom and therefore, there are tribal rules and obligations to be followed.  These dictates you say are definitely far from what you’ve established for yourself; for what you’ve established are rules and obligations that are out of the norm and relate to independence, competition and whatever it is that will make you feel loved.  Obligation #1:  grocery shopping for the Christmas eve food.  Get up.

On the way to the grocery,  thoughts of plausible things to happen like ‘Oh ma’m, we ran out of this and that’ or ‘Sorry people, no more parking spot’ entered.  Mostly, though, thoughts of what food to serve, Chinese or Italian?,  and the inevitable question of  where the heck is he now, or rather- they, and what could have they been doing, penetrated.  Shit.

The groceries today hold the whole humanity of this planet.  The families- the unit to be dreaded- are right in front of my eyes.  This particular grocery is huge and busy like how the stock market looks like on a regular day, packed with people scuttling their way to the goalie: the cashier.  Christmas songs tried to entertain the whole place, but they are just irritating.  In the carts are mixtures of what we regularly buy like cooking oil, bread, and toilet paper and those that are occasionally bought like red wine and some unusual kind of cheese.  These busy people are like ants bumping at each other, hurrying home to bring the beads of rice to feed their family. Amidst their helplessness to the Christmas rush and last minute shopping, their motivation to win against this war and get that last pack of roasted chicken is very evident:  they want tonight to be extra special.  That the moment the clock strikes 12 o’clock, there are only two things to do and that is to eat good food and be with the people they love and cherish.

In the cashier, the line is like a 2 hour traffic jam and  the delusions to have their kind of Christmas eve presented themselves.  Almost there, actually.  (Cheers to them.  All cheers to them!) If only I weren’t the mistress.    

Cashier asks if I’ll pay using cash or card.  The card suddenly made me think of my debts.