Grocery store parking lot. I pull into a space and see them in the car facing me. An old couple (“old-er” I remind myself, seeing my gray hair in the rear-view mirror). She gets out first, petite and with the perfect upright posture small people occasionally adopt and which I should. English teacher glasses with the chain, short grey hair.
She opens the passenger door, and he gets out, slowly. He was once tall, but his body has bent him to look always downward, and as she expertly scans the lot for a stray shopping cart, he pulls out a cane and walks so very slowly to her as she pulls a cart to him. He puts the cane in the cart, grabs the handle, and moves a bit faster as she crossing-guards the lane and they enter the store.
I have a large list and as they make their way around the store, I keep seeing them. He pushes and stops as she picks through produce and dairy products, quickly looking and choosing, much like the birds in our front yard feeder. Fast and decisive. I spy them near the ice cream section, him looking longingly, sadly at the gelato as she rolls her eyes. I see this at a few more forbidden areas and his small smile tells me it’s an old game. He knows he got to live this long by listening to her but still wants to poke her a bit.
I end up at the checkout line right behind them and that’s when she gets me. As the items are being rung up, she grabs a candy bar and puts it on the belt and winks at him, and I feel tears filling my eyes, just seeing the sweetness.