So, there I am, at the grocery store.
All the kids are in school and I think, since I have about two hours before they get home, I will run (real quick) to go get some groceries - I don't need all that many things. I'll just run right over there - follow the list I have scribbled out - be home in no time.
I probably went wrong starting out in the bakery department, because it just went down hill from there. As, it often does.
An hour and a half and two baskets of groceries later ... I emerge from the grocery store into the parking lot. And ... that is when I see her.
Out in front of me...
Me ... the one, scrambling for her keys that have sunk to the bottom of my huge handbag - Me ... the one with my wallet still in my hand, my sunglasses on the ground at my feet and a pen in my mouth - Me ... the one in the disheveled jogging suit, with the jacket that doesn't really match the pants and t-shirt with coffee or something dripped down the front - Me ... the one searching the parking lot cluelessly for my big blue van that I have no idea where I parked - Me ... the one with the two huge baskets full of groceries for my rug-rats at home; stuff like, Froot Loops, Gogurts, snack chips, bags of apples and oranges and fruit roll-ups - Me ... the one that has now only 15 minutes to get home before the bus, unload 68 bags of groceries into my house and into the pantry, refrigerator or freezer - Me ... THE LUNATIC!
Out in front of me ... strolling ever so slowly and happily ... I see myself ... in 30 years.
I stop for a moment to admire her.
There I am ... an old woman ... and I am quite put together. I have my hair all done up and my clothes are old-lady-like, yet they are crisp and matching and clean. I am in no hurry. I am pushing my one little basket and taking my time. In the bottom of my basket are two lonely bags of groceries - one containing my laundry supplies and the other, my cottage cheese, tomatoes and peaches. I smile as the sun hits my face and don't even reach for a pair of sunglasses, as I have long since had cataract surgery and I am tolerant to the brightness. I watch as the world rushes by me - as the people rush by me - and I am content to take my slow steps, feel the breeze on my wrinkled old face and hands and just ... stroll ... ever so leisurely to my car.
She smiled at me. She was just an old lady ... but she was everything I describe, only ... she wasn't me at all.
She was merely a dream.