I had a long list of tasks. John had a parallel one. I timed the sequence of errands in a way that would maximize efficiency, patting myself on the back for squeezing all I could into the hour between kid shuffles and meetings. 

 

As I prowled the aisles of the grocery store for carbs to fill the bellies of twenty some soccer players, I did not dawdle. Dawdling was not consistent with productivity. 

 

Six boxes of pasta. 

Four jars of sauce. 

Two bags of meatless balls.

Twin canisters of Parmesan cheese. 

Four loaves of French bread. 

As I ticked off the last item I spotted an elderly couple I know strolling through Housewares. They paused. He reached to the top shelf, looked for her gray nod of approval which she granted, wrapped his gnarled fingers around a pink bottle and handed it to her. She gently set it in the cart beside the oranges, taking care not to bruise them. I am not sure but she may have spoken to the oranges. No tossing items in the cart, or brisk walking. They lingered. When they were ready they continued along through Paper goods. 

 

I gawked. What was this? They were shopping together?? What a ridiculous idea. Completely incompatible with speed. John and I can double our output if we split up. But perhaps by the time your grandchildren outnumber your children there are other worthy attributes to consider. Maybe the are more keenly aware than I am that being together is as precious as any to do list.

 

What would it be like to meet the ordinary duties of the day, not as annoying obstacles to pass on the way to Done, but as simple pleasures shared in the company of my life's companion?

 

I cannot remember the last time John and I shopped together. I have heard folks wiser than myself urge me to slow down and enjoy the daisies. Maybe I should take time to squeeze the oranges with my middle aged man. 

Photo by Joy Feerrar

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