Gemma stood in line, fourth from the front. The pharmacy was busy that evening as commuters stopped on their way home. Gemma's youngest had an ear infection and antibiotics had been prescribed.
As she stood in line, Gemma made lists. Most stayed in her head but a few were jotted down in her smartphone or on scraps of paper. The grocery list went into her phone. It was ongoing and never-ending. She checked off each item as she bought it and then added it back days later when it once again needed to be restocked in the pantry or in the fridge. She tried not buying things that weren't on the list, but those were the things she was happiest to see in her kitchen when she had her quiet time after the kids had gone to bed.
The paperwork-to-be-done list had gotten out of hand recently when both children had camp applications due. That list was kept on an old envelope that Gemma stored in her purse. She felt satisfaction when she could cross something off. Much better than an electronic checkmark for making her feel accomplished.
Gemma's list of "places to travel someday" stayed in her thoughts. It was brief and unchanging: Paris, Casablanca, and Florence. The cities represented locations in her favorite romantic films. She did not have anyone to travel with, but she held out hope that this might change by the time her children were grown. They were now five and seven.
The list of movies she wanted to see she kept in her phone. She added new movies each time a preview appealed to her, and she then pared down the list each time she read negative reviews. This kept the list manageable, and at a length not too depressing, considering she had only seen five movies in the theatre since the children's birth, and three of those were from Disney. She often found herself crying at any movie, or TV show, that featured parent-child relationships. She had started to make a list of these types of moments that moved her, but the list grew exceptionally long as she found herself crying at everything from gum commercials to political ads. She identified a short list of things that were likely the cause of her feeling so emotional–maternal hormones, increasing age, lack of sleep, general exhaustion–but that list depressed her and she found herself crying again.
The list of household chores grew as quickly as the grocery list, but it was kept loosely in mind. Gemma saw no need to write down the obvious as she stared at dirty dishes or baskets of clothes to be put away.
The list of her children's friends and regular playmates was contained in a dogeared school phonebook. The list of her own friends was short and growing shorter as everyone moved into different stages of life. There were the friends with similar-aged kids. Friends with no kids. Friends with much younger kids. Friends with pets for kids. Friends with a lot of money. Friends who were struggling. Friends who always seemed happy. Friends who never did. They glimpsed one another's lives on Facebook and sent occasional emails, but there were very few people she ever phoned or saw in person.
The pharmacy line moved forward and soon it was Gemma's turn. As she requested her daughter's prescription, she noticed the pharmacist's bracelet, a silver chain holding a half-dozen silver and blue charms. It reminded her of the dangling silver earrings her mother liked to wear. Gemma made a mental note to add calling her mother to her growing to-do list for the night.
(Inspired by having just started reading Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried.)
No comments:
Post a Comment