Hippo Brigade

I like to look through my old files on the computer every now and then. It makes me smile when I read the pseudo-lofty papers I wrote in college. Silly, really. I thought that if I peppered my essay with words that had a lot of syllables it would help me get a better grade. But looking back, it just made me appear young and unexperienced in writing. In the midst of all my convoluted essays filled with crap and clutter, I found something I wrote about my husband before he was my husband. I read it, sighed, and made the same noise that I make when I see a baby elephant. Would you like to read it? Here it is:

The shiny isles are laden with colorful boxes of Hamburger Helper, jars of crunchy peanut butter, and glossy bags of Wonder Bread. Disheveled mothers plunge down the linoleum path, reckless, searching for elements that make up their shrine: un-dented boxes of Cheerios, extra-strength Advil, and stain-fighting laundry detergent.

Choice- its thickness can envelop the most mundane of chores. Even the grocery store is not exempt from the thoughtful quest that is choice: paper or plastic? Double coupons or club cards? Fat free or low fat? Generic or brand name? Yet in life, it’s not as easy as neglecting to bring your Ralph’s card; difficult decisions, repercussions, and defining moments inevitably capture our character and contour the shape of our heart.

You…you were this glinting, shiny box at the very end of isle 18. You weren’t on sale, you weren’t conveniently located, and you weren’t expecting to be bought. But something about you provoked my attention. I read your back panel and found myself fascinated and rather intrigued. I thought about it and balanced my check book in my head, I couldn’t quite afford you, and I wasn’t even sure if I could fit you in my cupboard. But some how you made it into my cart, I chose you. Despite the risk and the challenge, I chose you.