And the Beat Goes On

I spent most of my day looking at numbers, abbreviations, totals, and contents. As I did this, I came across a receipt. I didn't realize at first the receipt I was looking at and then I was taken back to the moment.

My hands were on the cart. I was void of any emotion other than bewilderment. I stood and stared at shirts, pajamas, socks, and pants. I looked at the shoes, on my feet, now blackened but wearable. Would I buy shoes today? No, I needed socks more than I needed shoes.

I started randomly grabbing items. Toothbrushes, four, into the cart. Pens, paper, and a folder, into the cart. Shirts, two packs of socks, and a long sleeve shirt since the one I had on wasn't even my own but belonged to my neighbor.

Circling the aisles I'd forget what I was doing there, overwhelmed by feeling like I had nothing, needed everything, yet wanted nothing. It's what you do in moments when you don't know what to do. It's what you do when you don't know what might happen in the next five minutes, hours, or days.

And now today, I sat at my newer table, with my newer mug, with my newer computer and entered numbers into spreadsheets. I can't be filled with anything but gratitude now, but I still remember.