Paper or Plastic?

"You're turning into Mrs. Walter, Mom!"

I had to chuckle last week as one of my daughters surveyed the basement void of nearly thirty years' worth of clutter, videos, and old catalogs. Instead, the built-in shelves house many of my husband's books, neat and tidy. The floor looks large and nearly empty.

Mrs. Walter. . . Barry did yard work for the dear old lady, and she adopted the rest of us, more or less.

For a while we (four-year-old Elisabeth and I) took her grocery shopping. On the weeks she found it difficult to get out, we dropped by to pick up her list. Always in her careful handwriting, always specific, always brand name items. One day we were looking for a can of Green Giant vegetables. Elisabeth, always a ready helper, quipped, "There it is. The green Philistine!" 

A widow, former tennis player, and avid reader of the classics, Mrs. Walter was sharp as a tack. She kept her home and yard just so. Conversant in subjects ranging from philosophy to gardening, she carried an aura of youth about her slight wrinkled frame. She listened well, offering just enough to make you think you could change your corner of the world.

When we shopped together, a pattern emerged that disturbed me:

"Does she want paper or plastic bags?"
The question, directed toward me, by-passes the little lady,

     Change purse poised, list in hand.

Oh, I know the answer.

We come here every Tuesday.

She waits for me by her door with hat and sunglasses,

     Outfit neat, in different colored Keds every time - 

Then hoists herself up onto my van seat.

At the store, we walk together . . .

     As though I am the usher

     And she a guest at a grand wedding.

I lay her produce on the grocer's scale.

I search for cans, often tucked in where they don't belong. 

When we return, I unload her treasures and carry them in. 

We put them all in their proper places.

And all the while,

She listens as I weigh out pros and cons.

     She gives me clues when solutions seem obscure.

     She shares my load when life feels overwhelming.

     We put it all in its proper place. 

"Paper or plastic?"

"Paper," she says.*

I made it a point never to answer the questions misdirected toward me. Mrs. Walter answered them just fine. And if my daughter wants to compare me to our spunky friend who kept her home sparse and tidy, I'm okay with that.

Just let me do the answering!

*Poem written December 2002