I never thought I would be writing about a trip to the convenient store, but this trip was like no other. It seemed like a typical November day, two years ago, as I walked out of Walgreens. It was just a month after my grandmother had passed away and I spent my days running useless errands hoping to fill the void in my heart and distract me from the pain.
As I attempted to walk out of the store, I was frustrated by everything that was going on around me which was a very common feeling during this time. I was angry because I couldn’t even remember what I went there to buy so I ended up spending over $20 on nonsense just to waste time and money, both of which I didn’t have.
I was mad and confused at everyone. Especially, the young girl walking through the store holding her grandmother’s hand. The little girl was begging her grandmother for ice cream just like I use to when I was little, before I was old enough to know that there are bigger problems than a lack of sugar. There is heartache and pain in this world. Before I was old enough to understand that one day my grandmother wouldn’t be here with me. “Here is $20 my sweetie,” the woman said, “Keep it for later and well get you some Mr. Softy.”
As I carried on, I remembered all of the times my cousins and I would play outside of my grandma’s house, waiting patiently to hear the sounds of the Mr. Softy truck. The minute we heard it, no matter how far it may have been, we would run inside smothering my grandma with hugs and kisses while begging for some money. No matter how many times she would say, “Remember kids, no ice cream today,” everyday we would ask and every time she would always end up giving each of us exactly $20. Obviously, we all know that ice cream doesn’t cost this much, but that was my grandma, always giving more than she ever had to give.
Who knew that I, an 18 year old, could be jealous of a three-year-old little girl wearing pink slippers and a Dora the Explorer backpack,
but I was, because at the end of the day she had something I didn’t have anymore. A grandmother by her side.