Groceries on a Cold Day
Milky wisps escape the mouths of those descending along a chalky white sidewalk. All are bundled in their Canadian morning winter protection. A vivid cerulean sky upstages the bold signage of shops on either side of the wide uphill street. The low rumbling of car motors, damped by the banks of snow, and soft footsteps convey peace.
His curiosity of those around him is balanced effortlessly with his loyal pace aside his master. The regal canine whose coat combines the menacing Doberman colours with sweet Labrador looseness is reveling in his Saturday stroll.
Sloppily bursting out the glass doors is a young man bent over leading with the top of his toque. He looks up revealing a broad smile matched by the delight of his bouquet of pink roses. Breathlessly muttering, he seems to be rehearsing lines for a play.
A lady with a stretched posture and an unprotected crown of bouncing grey hair is striding past in a direct, perfect line with her determined ski poles. Her fire engine red sport jacket is pulled tight by the black straps of her knapsack. She appears on a ski trail instead of city sidewalk.
The front entrance to the grand grocery store has a sign instructing patrons to please use the side door. Young and old, tall and short, each character approaching either reads the sign and then disappointingly tries the door or tries the door and then reads the sign in shock. A little frustrated, everyone makes their way to the side of the building.
Shoppers keep exiting that very same door. Those that want to enter look as if they have been unfairly treated. One girl watches studiously as another reads the sign and tries the locked door with no success. Once she is alone, she does the same with the same results.
Then one young boy whooshes past the sign and slides in while a man exits. He goes on to search for his grocery items oblivious that he has accomplished what no other before him could.
I want to continue people-watching but my nostril hairs are becoming tiny icicles and I have lost feeling in my toes. My initial mission was to pick up groceries, so I debate waiting for the right time to fly past an departing shopper, or follow the sign’s instruction.
I am disappointed in myself that I decide to follow the rules and rob myself of an adventure. I decide it is impossible to accomplish the swift feat because of my cumbersome winter coat and boots. Once inside the warmth and pulling out my grocery list with numb fingers, I realize I am still that little girl trying not to get in trouble.