A Grocery Store Epiphany
As seasons change, I find myself navigating the grocery store alone more often. The silence is palpable, almost unsettling. It’s a stark contrast to the chaos when my boys were my constant companions. I remember Nicolas, age one, snagging my list from his baby carrier and stuffing it into his mouth, or Luca’s triumphant shout, “I’ll do self-checkout!” as he scanned each of our 100 items, one by one. Those early trips tested my patience.
“Why can’t we buy the cereal with the toys inside?” Nicolas once asked, eyeing the bright box.
“Because we’re sticking to the list,” I replied, meeting his disappointed glance. “But look, here’s why this one is better.” I pointed to the ingredient list of another choice, and he nodded, half listening but learning, bit by bit.
Or Luca, running ahead to the produce section, eyes wide as he picked up persimmons and passionfruit and pineapple. “Can we get these, Mommy?” His excitement turned to anger when I explained, “These aren’t in season right now. If we buy them they probably won’t taste ready. ”
“But why?” he asked, and we stood there, talking about how seasons and places affect what we see on the shelves. He took it in, eyes narrowing, and I held my breath.
Now, with them off at activities, I catch myself replaying our conversations. I catch myself missing them in the grocery store with me. Shopping alone is more efficient, but efficiency isn’t everything. It doesn’t capture the questions, the detours, or the small moments that taught them about choices, patience, and how the world works.
In a world that values convenience, I struggle to find balance. Apps and services promise more time, but at what cost? To avoid losing connection, I look for other ways to share life with my children. We discuss why voting matters over dinner, talking about choices and values. We attend professional soccer games, where the excitement of the crowd sparks questions about teamwork and perseverance. Even small rituals, like making soup together on a Sunday, become lessons in patience and creativity.
When daily tasks become solitary, what happens to connection? How do children learn to navigate life if they’re not part of it?
The silence in the store now reminds me: life isn’t only about getting things done. It’s about embracing the moments that build connection, even if they come with delays and detours. I remind myself—take the boys to the grocery store, to the bank, out to dinner, to the concert. Take them to vote. Let them be part of the process. Let it take longer. Because in learning to balance both, I find that the moments of shared chaos leave an imprint that lingers long after the checklists are done.
Below - some of my favorite grocery store photos!
