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As I continue to stare at the box, I can feel that others are looking at me, turning my head I see a mother with her two daughters. All of them are gazing over at me and I see that I’m standing in the middle of the aisle, obviously I’m blocking their path. Muttering a quiet apology I take a step back and continue to analyze the out of place box. The minute I step back, I wince. Lifting up my foot I see that I have stepped into something sticky. Wrinkling my nose in obvious disgust, I am briefly distracted from the box as I inspect my foot. It’s not gum which allows me to exhale in an obvious and rather loud sigh of relief. Hearing someone clear their throat, I look up from my shoe and meet the twinkling eyes of an older couple. Both watching me with interest. Without thinking I simply smile and point to the box of crackers, Do you know where those go? The minute the words are out of my mouth, I want to slap myself. I know where they go, the bright, yelling signs tell me exactly where they belong. I’d rather talk about the out of place crackers then the fact that I have been caught in the middle of the juice and canned food aisle staring at my foot.
I’d follow the signs. His wife says as they begin to walk past me. Again I was left alone in the aisle staring at that box. Apparently no one wanted to touch the lonely box of crackers. After this moment of looking at the box, I begin to think about why no one wanted to move the box. Am I being lazy? Or am I just apathetic? The thought of me being apathetic about this silly box, makes my nose wrinkle in apparent disgust. I remove my focus from the crackers as I hear a child crying, and the low rumble of numerous people talking. Around me people were chatting away, continuing on with their life while I was paused in front of cans of tomato juice and a box of crackers. The box of crackers had taken on a new meaning for me. They were clutter, because they were not where they belonged. The aisles in my life are only somewhat similar to the aisles in a grocery store. Like a grocery store they do get cluttered, but unlike those box of crackers which I could have easily moved, I cannot just pick up and move the jars and boxes of pride and bitterness that are in me. Instead I have to let my Papa do that, but I must be willing to deal with them, no matter how hard it seems.
The man gives me a large smile and tilts his head looking at the crackers for a moment. He doesn’t grab them either.
Brittany Kramberg, Senior, Psychology Major
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