posted by Paige on Uncategorized

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This shouldn’t be such a big deal. Why does it feel like a big deal?

You fish in your bag, checking for your keys. Still there. Wallet too. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.

It’s mid-morning in grimy, glittering, early-summer Chicago, and you’re alone in the world. Or, at least, alone on your way to the grocery store.

There’ve been so many firsts these last few weeks. First time moving to a city, first time living away from home or the insulated world of your small college, first time looking for a job with no connections whatsoever. And now this: your first time going to a grocery store by yourself. Somehow this is the most intimidating task yet. In some deep and undeniable way, it signifies an ability to take care of yourself. It means you’re one step closer to full adulthood and its attendant weights and responsibilities.

As ridiculous as it seems to you, you’re awash in anxiety, unsure you can do this. And yet you push onward, your stride purposeful, careful to arrange a look of assurance about you.

As you step through the automatic doors of the grocery store, your mood lifts somewhat at the sight of the vivid colors spilling out from the florist’s corner. The frigid air of the produce section is startling and you pull your hands to your upper arms, rubbing your skin to bring yourself some warmth, indulging in a secret half-hug.

Then, approaching a stack of apples, you suddenly realize that you’re not choosing for anyone but yourself. You can have exactly the apples you like.  As you walk around collecting items in your basket, the fear that’s been squeezing your stomach begins to relax its grasp.

It’s just a grocery store, after all. In fact, browsing around, choosing carefully, thinking about the meals you might eat–it’s all kind of fun. Exhilarating, even. There’s a power in it, an enjoyment. This is your morning, your day, and you’re making decisions with it. Decisions that will affect your future, if only the future of your meals. Is this what it feels like to be an actual grown-up, driving your own life?

Walking home, you find that your step has a natural power to it; you’re not putting it on. Something has shifted back there amid those stacks of cans and boxes, between the pyramids of produce. You carry the grocery bags with a sense of assurance, one on each arm. This is a thing you can do.

After dark you visit the outdoor pool of the building where you’re staying. Completely alone, you slip into the water, savoring the freedom your body finds there, relishing the sensation of warm air on wet skin. Finally you let yourself come to rest on your back, floating weightlessly and studying all the lights surrounding you: those of the city, those of the sky. The moon’s lifted up high tonight, partial but luminous, far above any of the skyscrapers and incomparably beautiful.

It’s okay. Everything really is okay.

Tags: body, emotions, the 500-word project