Breathe

I was standing in line at the grocery checkout the other day waiting for the lady in front of me to finish stacking her groceries on the moving counter. I found the divider bar absentmindedly, and started removing my groceries from my basket. While placing them on the counter…a short, little, feisty woman ahead of me jolted me back to reality. I had been dreaming of what must have been a spectacular moment when Barack and Michelle arrived at ball number one on inauguration night… courtesy of the proudly displayed People’s magazine issue perched on the stand in front of me. “Ma’am,” she said irritated, “I would NEVER do what you just did to me!” I was aghast – What had I done? What had made her nostril’s flare and the steam come out of one pierced ear? I looked down at her basket and realized she had not finished removing her groceries. I had overstepped or in this case over stacked. I waited. Would God strike me down for this act of terror? Surely Barack and Michelle were shaking their fingers at me from their perch on the magazine stand. A sin, I truly didn’t mean to commit.

I took a breath. REMEMBER THIS STEP. And as I exhaled, I thought, “Okay, this woman is wrapped a bit too tight and I can choose to be catty (my children say I do this well) or I can choose to be nice, even though I really didn’t feel nice. Nice was not exuding through my epidermis nor anywhere else, but I took a breath, and the whole yoga thing took over along with the God moment and I said, “I’m sorry ma’am I didn’t see that your basket wasn’t empty yet.” She rolled her eyes – I removed my groceries and said, “I didn’t mean to upset you.” “You didn’t upset me,” she snapped. “I’m from the NORTH – we don’t get upset.” Whatever that’s supposed to mean… I took another breath… “I have a home in the NORTH too, I know what you mean.” Of course, I really didn’t know what she meant. However, I felt like she needed someone to agree with her.

She finally placed all her groceries on the counter and as she did, she began to tell the checkout clerk about her last three days - days of sorrow and loneliness – her mother had passed away. She had not been out of the house since her death. She shared her feelings of desperation, telling the clerk how difficult it was for her to overcome her loss.

She paid the clerk, turned to me, and said, “I hope you don’t think I was being mean.”
“Not at all,” I said.

Sometimes, we all just need to breathe.