I rarely go shopping the day after Thanksgiving. But I have heard tell of raucous behavior by customers feverishly grabbing for the last item on clearance. They know that if they don't respond instantly there are a hundred people in line behind them who will snatch it up. 

 

This week I went to the dentist. I am not fond of going to the dentist, though I am pleased to have gone to one. Choosing my verbs carefully there.

 

As I sat awaiting my fate I thought about an imaginary trail of people who would eagerly leap frog over me to seize my place in the chair. People without access to medical care are left to their own toothbrushes. If they even have that.

 

The traffic was slower than normal on the way home and as I pressed my foot to the brake I went back to that invisible trail of people. The ones who would do the fifty yard dash for the privilege of sitting in a car full of gas, able to turn the wheel wherever they please. The people standing at a bus stop beside the road were only a few of the throng. I let my eyes float to the leaves around me which I had neglected to notice in my haste. 

 

I stopped at the grocery store for a couple of things, and the customers were five deep at each register. Yet again, in my delay I brought to mind the crowds that are stranded far from a line of any length, without plastic cards in their pockets and no way to barter. Waiting suddenly seemed less annoying. 

 

Attending to the gifts that surround me every day is an elusive effort. Having never truly been without, or bereft of options, I need to augment with my imagination.