Culprit at Costco

Day 268

I think hospitals should issue new mothers an extra set of hands upon discharge.  I’m just saying.  

As if I need more proof (more than what I’m living), I get it today at Costco. 

Struggling with her cart, the young mother attempts to shush her two giggling girls as she drags two industrial-sized boxes of diapers behind her.  I feel for her.  It wasn’t too many years ago that I was her.   

The woman in front of me also sees the mother.  She turns to me and gives a sympathetic shoulder shrug.  “What can we do?”  Her shoulders say.  “I don’t want to lose my place in line.” 

If there’s one thing I know about Costco, it’s this.  There is absolutely no risk of “losing” your place in line because none move faster than a turtle.  Plus, anyone wanting to jump the line would have to maneuver his cart around baskets full of 20 pounds of mayo and a wheelbarrow full of olive oil.

“I’ll push if you pull,” I say.  Putting my back into it, I slide the diapers across the concrete floor  while the woman pulls her cart of kids. 

I turn back to my cart.  My line hasn’t moved an inch.  I shrug my shoulders at the woman in front of me.  My shoulders say, “What else could I have done?”