The Small Things

Extraordinary Moments in Everyday Life

Diapers and Cheerios

It's true that the hours fly when you're having fun, but when you're not, well; let's just say they dig their heels in the ground and take their sweet time passing by. It feels like I've been here at work forever and a day. My shift ended four hours ago but of course, somebody didn't show up and I had to take their place. Standing at a register checking people out wasn't exactly hard to do, but when you've been here since early this morning it becomes tiring. My feet were hurting, even in the 'comfort-plus' tennis shoes I wore, and I was just itching to get out of these black slacks and socks. But if that long line had anything to say about it, I wouldn't be getting home anytime soon. 

"Cash or credit?" I asked in a voice I hope wasn't nearly as weary as how I felt. 

"Cash," the customer answered. 

She began to dig through her purse, and while she did I studied her. After just a few moments, I recognized the heavy-set woman with the dark skin and ready smile. She was always smiling. 

Hmn. I guess if I had the cash money to come to the store and rack up on groceries, I'd be smilin', too, I thought to myself with more than a bit of envy. 

It was true, though: her cart was full of food and all kinds of stuff. I could only afford half of that every month, and that's only if my check is good. Usually it was, but I had other expenses to tend to and that's what ate away at the $14 and hour lump sum. Expenses like online classes and rent and of course, my baby. Most of the money is thrown out to maintaining my broke down car, too. If it ain't something that needs to be fixed or changed or tuned up or renewed, the old thing is always running out of gas every time you look up. Plus, I live with someone, a relative, and if you have ever been in that situation you'll know how hard it is to keep gas and money for long. 

The customer asked, "How are you tonight?" 

Broke, I thought. Aloud I said, "I'm fine, and you?" 

There was no tone or timbre to my voice and that wasn't the woman's fault. I was just ready to get up out of here. She didn't seem to take offense, she just kept on smiling and handed me the money.

"You got all the bags?" She asked. 

She wasn't talking to me this time, she was addressing the young girl with the long legs and micro-braids. I remembered her, too. She was this woman's daughter. The woman lived in the same apartments complex as me and her daughter was always out there playing basketball. She had another daughter, I think, but only one was present now, busy with the task of loading up the cart. 

"I got 'em, Mama," the girl responded. 

"Here's your check, ma'am." I stated, and then added mechanically, "You have a good night." 

"You, too, honey." She told me. 

I snorted to myself and thought, I doubt it.  

She left and took her daughter and her million groceries with her. I just sighed and glanced at that long line again. 

"Can I help you?" I asked. 

"You ain't gotta' get a attitude," this person chided. 

That's when I took the time to actually glance at them. It was a dude, a dirty dude by the looks of it. All saggin' pants and gold teeth. I know his type; the sort of men with small minds and huge egos. 

"If you not here to purchase something," I began neutrally, "Please get out of line." 

That kind warning went in one ear and out the other. He just grinned at me like something was funny and tilted his head. 

"What time you get off?" He asked me. 

I rolled my eyes. "Please get out of line, sir." 

"For real, tho'!" He insisted.

And that's when I lost the little bit of patience I did have with these types of people. He, like some other dudes, just thought he could walk in here and impose on myself and the people in line behind him, just so he could try (and fail) to get something from me. Well tonight he was sorely mistaken. 

"Look," I said with my chin raised indignantly, "I don't have the time or energy for whatever you got on your mind so you can just get on with that mess." 

Right then he was looking down, glancing over his shoulder and probably feeling played. But I wasn't finished. 

"You 'ought to be 'shamed," I declared, "coming in here tryna' holla' at somebody with yo' crusty behind. Now if you're not buying nothing, you need to leave 'cause otherwise you just wasting everybody's time." I snapped. 

While I stood there, all hot and ticked off still, contemplating whether or not I should've said that in front of all these people (people who were witnesses to my unprofessional behavior), the dude left the line in a huff. I'm sure those were cuss words he was muttering under his breath but I couldn't care less what he had to say about me. I was more concerned with getting in trouble the next day for my rash actions. 

Great, I thought bitterly, something else for me to worry about. 

That encounter played out over and over again in my head and for the rest of my shift, or my co-worker's shift I should say, I thought of how I should've handled that situation. 

Later, the drive to my apartment was quiet and quick. I couldn't get up those three flights of stairs fast enough. When I did, I approached my door with a certain amount of wariness. There was a note on it. 

Please don't be an eviction notice, I silently implored of God or whoever else was listening in my head. 

It wasn't a notice, it was a letter. 

Good Evening, it read, You left your door unlocked. 

I quirked a brow because that wasn't all. It was about a good paragraph or two written on that page and that confused me; what more did this person have to say? If you see somebody's door unlocked, that's all you got to tell them, if that: they could've just left it alone. I mean, how did they know I left my door unlocked anyway? 

I stepped into my apartment because it was indeed unlocked, just as I'd supposedly left it hours ago. All the lights were on, which irked me because the electric bill was on my tab. Actually, this whole shebang, the rent and utilities and such, all that was on my tab since the relative I lived with wouldn't hold up on the deal we made: the one where we split things down the middle. The only splitting that was being done was the metaphorical split to my legs each month as these bills kicked me between them. 

"Anybody here?" I called out. 

The silence that answered me made me frown. If nobody was here, who was watching my son? 

"Mama!" 

I glanced over towards the corner of the room and saw that baby of mine sitting in his walker. The yellow, plastic thing was a lot cleaner than I remembered, and so was my baby. And the canary-yellow onesie he was wearing wasn't one I recognized. 

Something funny going on here, I mused. 

"Mama! Wan' up!" The baby called out to me. 

He had his little brown arms stretched up over his head so I went over to him and obliged him. Yeah, he definitely smelled like he had a bath and that was good. One less thing on my mind. With him on my hip, I went and locked my door, then settled down on the couch to read that letter. I picked up where I left off. 

You left your door unlocked. I saw you walking out of it earlier, I think you were on your way to work. I came over, I figured someone might be there, but when I knocked no one was. Just to make sure, I opened the door and called for someone. There was no one there.  

Again I wondered why the person didn't just leave it at that. And then I wondered where my relative could be; she wasn't there when I left, but I know she got off work about an hour after I went in. That begged the question of where she was. I figured I didn't want to know; this wouldn't be the first time this has happened. What I did want to know, was what more this person had to say in this letter. 

Now don't fault me for this, but when I saw that baby sitting on the floor all by himself, I had half a mind to call the authorities but I didn't. 

It didn't sit right with me to report you. I saw the textbooks on the coffee table and I see you coming day in and day out, working down at the store; I know you trying to do something with yourself. 

And as a mother myself, I know I wouldn't want nobody to take my baby away. 

I see that you're not a bad parent, that you're struggling, so I took the liberty to have one of my daughters watch after him while I ran to the store and picked you up a few things. I had her give him a bath, too, I hope you don't mind.

Don't take it the wrong way, I just saw the empty cabinets and remembered the days when I was a young mother and was struggling. 

So take these things as a blessing from one mother, one black woman to another. Keep up with your studies and have a blessed day. 

There was a name, the woman's, and that's when it hit me. This woman, it was the very same who I saw in the check-out line at work earlier tonight. The one who had a cart full of stuff. The one who was so friendly but couldn't get a single smile out of me. I read over the letter again, more carefully this time and with her in mind, and then hurried to the kitchen. 

Bags. 

Bags everywhere. All over the countertops. My kitchen is covered by walls on three sides and is tiny as all outdoors, so I hadn't seen them when I first walked in but now I did. The bags were empty but as I opened various cabinets I saw the new additions to my food collection. When I opened the fridge, tears came to my eyes. 

Full. 

For the first time it was full. Milk, water bottles, cheese, butter, eggs, sandwich meat; all kinds of good stuff. There was a loaf of bread on the microwave and some bananas and apples beside the dish tray and ground meat in the freezer and some Cheerios on top of the refrigerator. There was juice and little snacks, stuff I didn't need but still liked to eat. This woman went all out. 

I had to get out that kitchen before I broke down crying. 

But when I came back to the living room and went to put my baby in his playpen near one wall, I really did lose it. In his pen was a whole other stash of stuff; diapers, a few outfits, some wipes and formula. Now I know good and well that stuff ain't cheap and yet...here they were, free of charge, thanks to someone else's kindness. 

I was shaking so bad I had to sit back down and just cry. Just let it all out. I was crying because I felt bad for the way I acted towards that woman earlier, not knowing she was buying all that stuff for me, me, me who hadn't said more than two words to her. I don't know what possessed her to do this, but it humbled me. 

"Thank you Lord," I whispered, because it had to be Him on that woman's heart. 

And even though I knew the food would get eaten all-too-quickly, and my baby would outgrow those clothes, and the diapers and formula would only last so long, I was still grateful. In this life, good things only came around so often so it was best to take them where I could.