by, Nadirah Aqueelah Shakir
My schedule was jammed packed last night, to God be the glory. So, when I got off of work, I was tired and hungry. I fast during the day because I like to eat at home, sitting down, and mindfully. I had to stop to the grocery store to pick up a few more items for Thanksgiving dinner. When I finally found a parking spot, I reached into my wallet to grab my debit card and headed into the crowded market.
Once I got the herbs, gluten free noodles, water, purple onions, celery, and ice cream I headed to the checkout line. I thought about going to self-checkout lane, but opted to support a human behind the counter doing what a robot could have easily done and a bit more quickly. The guy at my checkout lane was slow and got the feeling that it was deliberate; but rather than get upset about him taking his slow time I decided to take a deep breath and bring presence to the situation.
Because he was going so slow, I decided to take my cell phone out of my pocket and see what was going on Facebook; but then I realized what I was doing. I was avoiding being present. So, I put the phone back into my pocket and took another deep breath. I had been avoiding turning around to see who was behind me because I felt a presence watching me, and it made me somewhat self-conscious. I surrendered to the discomfort and made eye contact with the individual behind me–a stout black man, with happy eyes adorned with very nice glasses with a gold frame. We raised our eyebrows at each other as we both directed our attention at the slow man behind the cash register.
Then the man behind me commented on my grocery selection. “That’s an interesting diet, vegetables, herbs, ice cream, and water.” He wanted to know where the turkey was. I told him it was in the crock pot at home. We both laughed. He said I didn’t look like someone who ate ice cream. I smiled, as I thought about my love affair with ice cream. By this time the guy behind the registered was saying hello to me and ringing up my grocery. When he was done. I pulled what I thought was my debit card from my pocket to pay. Accept it wasn’t my debit card. It was my minister’s license card. Embarrassed, I told the guy behind the counter I’d be back. I was headed to my car to get my debit card. Before I could take another step the black man with the happy eyes behind me told the guy behind the register to add my groceries to his tab. I asked him if he was sure. He said, absolutely, told me to have blessed night and a happy Thanksgiving. As I bagged my groceries, he told me to enjoy my ice cream. I assured him that I would.
I walked out of the grocery store feeling grateful that I chose the human experience. Uncomfortable as they can sometimes be, there’s a beauty when you can look into the eyes of another human being and actually feel seen.
Nadirah Aqueelah Shakir 