“Shopping on a Saturday Afternoon” by Jennie Hope Meres

They walk out of the store as I’m tossing groceries in my car
I never noticed before, I never looked before
I just never saw what I refused to be me before
And somehow I missed it
because I had it for a while; the sunny smile,
the hand in mine
I didn’t need to notice the other people at the store
As I watch them walk across the parking lot,
hand in hand –
I notice them now, I see them now;
her laughing at something said, him looking back
bringing their joined hands up to
her face to brush against her cheek,
pushing their grocery laden cart with the kids walking behind;
arguing as siblings do
For a minute I thought it was me and,
for a second,
I forgot to remember
that that only used to be me and I knew how it felt;
I knew how it felt to be that
And I looked around and realized I hadn’t noticed before,
or maybe
that I just refused to look before,
that I just didn’t see before
I just never saw that just wasn’t me anymore,
just a ghost of the me before
And I watched as they packed their bags in the car;
laughing and talking
And the kids clamoring for attention;
an impromptu tickle fight buckling them into the car
The children’s squeals of delight cut through me like a knife
Her laughing as she climbs smiling into the car
And for a minute I hate her,
for a second I want to warn her to take care
She just may not notice before,
maybe she just won’t see before
a ghost of the her before –
walking out from a store, catching her off guard
while tossing groceries in the car
Realizing in a minute, knowing in that second
that she never noticed before,
she never looked before
she just never saw what she refused to be her before
and somehow she missed it
and it just wasn’t her anymore

~ Jennie Hope Meres, via The Voices Project

10 thoughts on ““Shopping on a Saturday Afternoon” by Jennie Hope Meres

  1. mishedup

    god i know days like that.
    and then there are the more recent ones….where i can’t help but study the old couples,
    hand in hand, on vacation, sitting next to each other…bickering, laughing.
    now it’s the older ones i notice.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I love the rhythm and pace of this, the repetition of key words. Plus the whole realizing how much life has changed for you without noticing, and not always in the best of ways or ways you’d originally thought. I just love it.
      And did you notice….it’s by our Jennie. 😀

      Liked by 1 person

  2. It makes me so happy to see our Jennie here (and at the Voices Project).
    This was striking, gut-punching, and all so real as another birthday passes.
    At this age, I often feel invisible…Jennie captures that, too.
    Thank you so much for sharing her words here–I miss reading her.
    In fact, I feel a hello e-mail coming on. xo

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Text her 🙂 She’s not on-line very much, but always gets her texts (even if she’s sometimes too busy to reply right away).

      Is it birthday time, Mick? I’m so bad with that stuff. That’s one of the drawbacks of staying off of Facebook. Happy Birthday!? 🙂

      I understand on the invisibility. Funny though, I tend to crave that more and more. It’s like a centering into the self. Like our INFJ, substance over quantity. You may be a lot of things, but you will never be invisible. You are vibrant neon morning glory, and you brighten my world. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Awwww…thank you, Christy. But, you are so right. We are never invisible to the people who count. If I’m your neon morning glory, then you are my sunflower–face to the sun and wind at your back.
        *wanders off to write a sunflower poem 🙂


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