The Grocery List Effect

3pm. It is an interesting time of day; I quite like it. 3pm is usually when I finish school. But, on this particular day, 3pm struck, and I kept working. I was trying to focus, but an unfinished list was swimming in my head. ‘I hope I don’t forget anything this time’. The thought pounded along with the list of what tomorrow morning had in store. 

When the sun rose the next day, our house had been busy for some time. The preparations for the trip to come had been ongoing and were no getting into full swing. There were last minute bits and bobs to pack, snacks to gather, luggage to coral, and as always, schoolwork was waiting.

1pm. Half an hour until departure time. Piled with backpacks full of schoolbooks, suitcases full of clothes, and empty ice coolers and storage totes, we filled the car and left the warmth of home.

At the boat dock we braved the cold and hauled luggage to the boat, where it was loaded by the crew. While my icy fingers fumbled through the backpack laden with lectures and textbooks for my ticket, Mom parked the car, and made her way down the dock to board.

The boat was not crowded, though not empty. Mostly locals on a similar mission filled the occupied seats, and conversations sprang up as I dug out the geology field study that required my attention. 2 hours and about a mile of pencil led later, we arrived at the other end of the lake where we tromped through the biting cold once more as we claimed our possessions and found the car that was stiff with ice. 

Safeway provided us with snacks for the following day and eased our hunger as we drove to a friend’s house, where we would spend the short night. 

7am. Usually I would be making my morning juice and getting dressed about that time. But during a trip to town, like today, we were in the car, headed for appointments, grocery stores, and lots of traffic. 

After a quick visit to the doctor, I spent a few hours wading through college classes at Starbucks while my mom visited the Health Department. Costco met us next. We had a ‘small list’ and can out with a cart FULL of groceries. When you live remotely, you don’t go to the store with a ‘small list’. 

After another appointment, a trip to the college bookstore, late lunch with a friend, and an hour in Walmart, our day of nonstop was coming to a close. We ate dinner out (a rare treat when living in the mountains), then exhausted, drove back to our friend’s house. My sleeping bag on the couch was drawing me in, but the unfinished essay in my backpack kept my up for another hour. 

My eye shut and opened. What happened to the night? It meandered by unnoticed, and it was time to drive again. The icy road jeered at us, and time slipped away. We made it to the dock with minutes to spare. The coolers and totes, now laden with food, were loaded again into a cart, then onto the boat. 

I boarded the boat alone (Mom stayed in town a few nights longer) and tried to retain the information my textbook provided. Back in the valley, the postmaster and some locals waiting for packages helped unload the boat, and some kind neighbors helped me lug the coolers and totes to the top of the ramp. My sister met me with the luggage and together we scrambled out of the steadily falling snow into the car. 

The sight of home was a welcome view, and after a final struggle with the luggage, I was able to smell the sweet aroma of wood crackling in the fire, and all the comforting nuances of home. 

Though unpacking still lay ahead, I was warm and happy to be home.