The Things We Carried

A lifetime ago my mother visited me in Chicago. As we walked the five blocks from my apartment to the garage that housed the car I used so infrequently it never occurred to me that five blocks was a long way to walk to park your car, she asked "how do you walk so far with your groceries?".  She said this at the exact moment we crossed the street, only one block from my apartment, passing my neighborhood grocer. My mother, a woman who once drove home from her suburban grocery store without the groceries she had just purchased, was just shocked by this idea, "you walk to the grocery store!" and was quite worried about me carrying home, for one block, Tab and Triscuits.

Oh Mom, we carry everything home: groceries, children, curtain rods, tables, dinner.

Years ago I carried a wreath home from work that was only marginally smaller in circumference than I was tall.  I have carried a full set of china, an antique baby rocker and, on more than one occasion, a full complement of weekend cocktails. Every December we carry home a Christmas tree which used to be a joint effort, one of us at each end, until two years ago when I finally convinced Jack that we needed two trees. Successful lobbying means that now I carry my own tree but he's kind enough to give me the dining room yule, much smaller than the living room tree which seems to grow in height each year.

Last week the girls got new mattresses, so grateful they are still in twin beds.