Sensory Overload

Grocery Shopping After Prison

3 days after freedom

“What do you want from the grocery store?” Celia asked.

All I could do was frown and shrug. Most of the meals I’d eaten in the last 4 years had been prepared for me. And the ones I prepared for myself came from ingredients that you could find on the shelves of a gas station convenience store.

I thought about how I paid $5 for an onion last week when a kitchen worker had an opportunity to smuggle one back to the pod and was looking for a buyer.

“An onion,” I answered.

“An onion…” Celia gave me a confused look, “Ok. What’s the onion for?”

I shrugged again. “You can put onion on anything.”

Celia took a deep breath, trying to find some patience within herself. “And what do you want to put the onion on?”

“Well what do you normally get? Can we put onion on that?” was my response.

“Well sure,” she said. “I just thought maybe you’d want something that you haven’t had in a long time.”

“It’s hard for me to answer. How can I make a list when I don’t even know what’s on the shelves these days?”

“I tell you what,” said Celia. “Let’s just go with my list and if you see anything you like we can get it. I’ll make sure to get everything I need to cook for us this week.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said with a smile and a nod.

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30 minutes later Celia found a spot in the crowded parking lot. I opened the door and stood there for a moment to take in the scene.

In addition to the big grocery store, a store called Cloud Haven caught my eye, with pretty neon colors and stylized fonts.

“Ooh, what’s that?” I wondered aloud.

There was also a pet store, a nail spa, a liquor store, and a Chinese restaurant.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Celia was already making her way purposefully toward the grocery store.

“What’s the big rush?” I asked, trying to keep up with her.

“The grocery store stresses me out,” she said. “It’s a chore and I want to get it over with as soon as possible. That’s why I have my list. So I can get in, grab all the things I need, and get out.”

We came to the drive lane between the parking area and the store front. There were cars waiting for people to cross and people waiting for cars to drive through and I wasn’t sure about what the unspoken rules were here. So I waited a moment and followed Celia’s lead across.

She avoided the main entrance to the grocery store with the automatic sliding doors and went to another door on the right. She pulled it open and stepped through. I followed her in and let the door close behind me… right in the face of another lady.

Celia was quick to inform me, “that was rude.”

“Oh, we hold the door here?”

For the last 4 years I had been going through doors without looking back, just like everyone else around me. I never held a door for anyone else because nobody else would hold a door for me. It was the norm. We’re all capable of holding doors, why do we have to hold them for one another?

“Yea, we hold doors for people,” Celia said with some irritation in her voice.

"Ok,” I said. But how far back does someone have to be for one to not hold the door and not be rude? I wondered to myself.

I shrugged once more and then entered into a world of color. The produce aisle was before me and was stocked full of amazing fruits and vegetables. Bright yellow bananas, deep purple eggplants, dark green cucumbers. Unidentifiable green leaves were bundled together next to lettuces and cabbages. Plastic containers full of berries were next to lemons, limes, and kiwis. A whole table was full of nothing but tomatoes of all different shapes and sizes. Most were red, but some were yellow, orange, and even purple.

“Wow,” I said, picking up an eggplant. It was a beautiful shade of purple and was plump and flawless.

Celia walked over with a small cart and I put the eggplant in it.

“What are we doing with eggplant?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but look at it. I bet that thing is delicious.”

“You like eggplant?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever had it. Do you know how to eat one?”

“Dude, put the eggplant back. We have a list. Just follow me,” she started walking her prescribed path through the produce aisle, seemingly only seeing what was on her list and nothing else.

I picked up an onion. The label said $1.99/lb. I weighed it in my hand and had no idea if this thing was a whole pound, but I was willing to bet it was cheaper than that $5 onion I had last week.

This is going in the cart, I resolved.

I looked up to see Celia turning the corner and leaving the produce aisle.

We just got here. I haven’t even had a chance to look around. I thought.

Holding onto the onion, I continued slowly through the produce aisle, looking at all the colors I felt like I hadn’t seen in years and trying to avoid more awkward social situations with strangers who — like Celia — all seemed to be moving very quickly through the produce section.

They probably think I’m high.

It seemed like only minutes passed before Celia returned to the produce aisle with a full cart.

“You’re still here?” she asked. “C’mon, I’ve got everything we need, let’s go.”

“Wait, theres still like 90% of the store left to see.”

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