Quiet Utopia

“Ow!” I cried.1

“Watch where you’re going!” said a woman around twenty-five years old as she blew past me, clipping me with her grocery cart. I rolled my eyes, heading down the dairy aisle. What’s her problem? I wondered, feeling annoyed. A little girl with pigtails whined, tugging at the woman’s jacket. “Mommy! Mommy!”2

“What?!”3

‘Can I have some of that?” she said, pointing to a freezer full of ice cream. “Please?”4

“I told you a million times, no!” her mother said, pulling the girl’s arm roughly and heading toward the beer and wine section; a bag of hamburger buns drooped from their cart and fell to the floor. An elderly man who I hadn’t noticed bent down precariously and picked it up. He turned the woman, following the woman and child. I trailed behind him, oddly curious to learn the outcome of the situation. 5

He caught up with her as she compared prices of light beer. “Ma’am?” –she didn’t respond- “Ma’am?” he said, touching her tattooed shoulder. She jumped, as if she was surprised at being addressed in such a respectful manner, especially by someone so much older than her. “I believe you dropped this.” She glanced down into the cart, where the girl was exploring various boxes and bags of food. Stretching out her arm to take the package, puffy purplish scars running both length- and cross-wise became visible on her wrists. 6

“Um, yeah, I think I did, t-thank you.”7

“That’s a beautiful little girl you have there.”8

“Uh, yeah,” the woman replied, looking uncomfortable. 9

“What’s your name?” he said, turning to the child. 10

“Tiffany.” She was looking at a maze on the back of some cereal now.11

“You have very pretty hair, Tiffany.”12

“Thank you.”13

I glanced at my watch, and realized that I needed to be back home in less than half and hour, so I finished up my shopping and headed for the check-out. Getting in line, I noticed that the old man was standing in front of me. While I waited, I looked absent mindedly at the ground, and noticed a piece of folded up paper. Probably just a list, nothing important.14

When it came for the man’s turn, he pulled out his wallet and removed several pieces of paper similar to the one on the floor. The cashier unfolded them and punched something into the register; the words “food stamp” appeared on the screen. “Uh, you need another one.” The man fumbled in his pockets as I reached down and unfolded the scrap of paper. 15

“Sir?” –no answer- “Sir?” He jumped, as if he was surprised that someone would care. “I think you dropped this.” 16

He looked up at me, “Thank you.” His eyes completely disarmed me. It seemed as if I saw the world reflected inside them- grayish-blue, and both hard and soft at the same time, like the sea after a thunderstorm. He looked through my skin and straight to my soul, making me feel more emotions than I knew existed, all in a single glance.17

If only everyone would do that. If only everyone would help each other out, without any questioning or doubt, treating everyone as an equal. That man in the store saw everything, both virtues and vices, and did the right thing regardless. If only people like that were treated like they should be, receiving what they truly deserve. Life would be better if we would all aid each other, especially in the littlest things. Something small may evolve into something bigger, and even bigger, rippling out to touch an entire community. Loving everyone as equals would create a perfect world; there would still be problems, disputes, suffering; but everyone would be together throughout all the pain and all the joy of life, just as God intended. 18