c. 2022 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(5-22)
Sustaining my lifestyle in Thompson Township, Ohio used to involve grabbing a few things on the way home from my ‘real job’ in Geneva. As a salaried manager at the local supermarket. It was a daily ritual that I performed while taking late deposits to the bank on behalf of my employer. Something that happened every night. But after my career ended, and disability truly took hold, this ritual disappeared.
Suddenly, I had to remember how to shop like a regular patron.
With budget discipline in effect, I found myself buying less and relying on cheap, non-perishable goods to satisfy my appetite. Staple items were potatoes, mac & cheese, Slim Jims, and sandwich crackers. Not necessarily a healthy diet. Yet an efficient way to stay fed without going broke.
Beer was always on my shopping list, of course.
On a Wednesday morning, I traveled to the store for a round of these supplies while the customer traffic was likely to be slower. When I could typically get a handicapped parking space, and an electric, Amigo cart without difficulty.
In the Produce Department, I decided to purchase a bundle of fresh, green onions. This involved reaching skyward for a plastic bag, which pulled off of a roll mounted overhead. Then, I stretched a hand toward the refrigerated case. Mist sprayed gently around my fingers. But before I could snag my intended prize, a voice spoke from across the tile floor.
“Should I say hello?”
I spied a woman of intermediate age, who looked very much seasoned in life experience. She stood tall, with dark hair, a slender build, and her toes pointing inward. Her smile glowed, indicating that there was some purpose to having asked such a rhetorical question, while standing by the cabbage, lettuce, and green peppers.
I shrugged while pondering her greeting.
“Umm… sure. Hello!”
She had a puzzled reaction to my reply. Then, gestured with acceptance.
“Lots of people don’t recognize me now. I am…”
When she said the name of my second ex-wife, I went completely blank. My eyes widened. A drumbeat thundered in my chest. Our encounter was both unlikely and inexplicable.
“OKAYYYY!”
My former spouse began to show off photographs from her cellphone. Pictures of the daughters I helped to raise while we were together. And more of a first grandchild, with a second one on the way. Her manner was breezy and confident. She did not seem to feel awkward or self conscious. Our conversation lasted at least a dozen minutes.
“The girls are doing really, really well!”
Afterward, I rode around the store, seeking out foodstuffs that had been scribbled on a recycled piece of printer paper. My head felt numb. We hadn’t seen each other since going to the county courthouse in 2014, when our divorce was finalized.
I felt joyful about the grandkids, even if I might never see either of them in person.
We crossed paths again, as both of us had finished gathering our rations for the day. I couldn’t help boasting just a bit about my work in the home office. She raised her eyebrows as I gestured from my motorized cart.
“I’VE GOT 19 BOOKS ON SALE THROUGH AMAZON.COM… SINCE I CAN’T DO MUCH OF ANYTHING ELSE, I THOUGHT IT MADE SENSE TO STAY BUSY AT THE COMPUTER!”
She shook her head and laughed. Then disappeared down an aisle.
Later in the day, I reflected on our serendipitous meeting. For that moment, all else in our personal history vanished. We stood at the crossroads, free of rancor or judgment. It was odd to contemplate that I had felt nothing. No anger, sorrow, or hatred. No longing or regret. No wish to be transported backward through time.
I was in the midst of a writing project that involved old files from the 1980’s and 90’s. Yet predictably, verses began to appear about what had transpired between us, by Lake Erie. My head filled with verses that refused to be ignored. I tapped at the keyboard as they skipped onto the screen.
Ghost
“I saw a ghost in the market today
Someone long gone away
As I was roaming the aisles of a groceteria by the lake
She did not look familiar
I barely acknowledged her
Whispering: “If I said hello, would that be a mistake?”
I tried to recall clearly
Was this someone I had loved, so dearly?
While seated on a motorized cart with wheels
She mentioned names in praise
Of two children we had raised
The very sound of which carried great appeal
She had photos on her phone
I suddenly felt much less alone
While hearing of new children being birthed
I gestured lightly from my saddle
Explaining how I was able
To make art while the spark of life endures
Her look was one I barely knew
She had remade herself anew
Yet somewhere in that smile I caught a gleam
Of the one my soul remembered
The special, sweetest her
That once had given me the cause, perchance, to dream
Not too long did she linger
A new ring upon her finger
A new promise of affection, in silver and jade
Yet I did not feel aggrieved
Her shining eyes were sensuous to see
With a graceful bow, I watched her aura fade
Then with that memory tattooed
I continued shopping for my food
A restless rascal, humbled by negation
I was glad to meet, by happenstance
The one who escaped my lance
And found her own spells and incantations
She was, for a time
A mysterious lover, friend and wife
With her boldness shimmering against the skies of gray
And when that moment sadly passed
Spilled like Cabernet from the glass
I felt gratitude for joining her parade
Now that odd falling out
Has left me pondering my doubt
I remember the empty yield of being led astray
Yet those years wandering in the woods
Came to bestow a greater good
I feel no guilt for having danced upon the stage
The ragged rollicking made me right
Even thought exiting in spite
A fool’s gamble, shunned by Lady Luck
When viewed in a mirror’s reverse
I now see the lasting worth
Of what this sorceress brought with the bargain we struck
I am glad for that carriage ride
‘Round the streets of a city, jeweled with jive
An emerald glistening beneath the midday sun
I will forever cherish the chance
To take my princess by her hand
And leap fearlessly into that flaming flue of passion
I saw a ghost in the market today
Heard a rustle of the turning page
That carried me from youthful yearning to here and now
I saw a look of mature compassion
After a season of transgressions
An inheritance of gold from meine frau”
This poem came out quickly, like the passing of a romantic interlude. I sat and pondered, afterward. Still struggling to believe that the day had yielded such an unexpected tale. I had left my trailer only because the refrigerator was low on bologna and brew. My quest did not meet any standard for notoriety. My goal was very humble in nature. Yet somehow, the blandness of everyday living had been diverted by a simple need for food and drink.
I was glad to have been both hungry, and thirsty.
