We forgot the yogurt for the cucumber soup we were going to make.

I remembered halfway through the unloading of the cart. I sent Joe off to get it and said that I would continue unloading the cart.

These particular carts are a little hard for me because they are quite wide and the reach necessary, when I seated by the cart in my chair, is a bit long. I have to really stretch to get everything, but we’d just come from the gym so I was feeling pretty limber.

I was reaching for the last bits, a bag of cherries, a bag of grapes and a bag of plums. I had just plopped the plums down on the counter and was reaching to the way back corner, it’s a tough reach, and when I was almost there, someone glided by my cart picked up the cherries and reached over and pout them on the belt for me.

She was startled when I said, “Why do you need to do that?”

“What she asked surprised?”

“Thieve from me.”


“Why are you taking my independence away from me? Why do you need it? Why do I have to be helpless? I need to do things on my own. I need my own sense of my independence and you took that from me? Why? Why do you want me or need me to be helpless?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I’m sure you don’t.”

And it was over. I could have tossed the cherries back and then done them again, but I didn’t. You can’t claim back a moment that was stolen by another.

Thieves they are.


Print Friendly, PDF & Email
This entry was posted in Rolling Around In My Head doing damns the darkness/ A Blog By Dave Hingsburger. Bookmark the permalink. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Click to listen highlighted text!