“NO MOM!”

As a child I hated going to the grocery store with my mom, but now I love it. My mom would ask if I wanted to go grocery shopping. I would groan, huff, and puff until I became light headed. Who wants to get car sick and walk near the frozen section? That’s the worst part— the freezers and smell of seafood. Why in the hell would any mom punish their only child this way? For revenge that’s why—the revenge of being in labor for four days! I hated it. However, I did get Dunkaroos, granola bars, and Captain Crunch. After all, I deserved it right? This cruelty towards me should get me at least a box of Push Pops. This horrible treatment went on until I left for Culver Academies.
Here at Culver my outlook changed from harassment to honor. I wasn’t giving the luxury of walking around with my mom and getting snacks I wanted. I found myself stuck at a school whose store had exaggerated prices for a slice of cheese. I missed walking near the frozen sections with my mom. What happened to me and how do I make it stop?
My first vacation home, my mom asked what I wanted from the store knowing I wouldn’t go. “Can I come?” I asked with a look of approval and sadness. Approval because I wanted her to spend time with me. Sadness because I took all those trips for granted.
I barely come home now. But when I do, I try to go with her every time. If not, I always say, “Love you mom. Drive safe and don’t talk to strangers!” I run to the balcony and watch her leave. I wave, smile, and regret that I stayed home.
As a child I hated going grocery shopping with my mom, but now I love it. I love walking near frozen sections of the store now—it gives me an excuse to cuddle with her. When I smell seafood, I see my mom’s side-ways facial expression as she passes the overpowering smell. When I go with her, I stand on the end of the cart so she can push me. Her “revenge” is her way of spending time with me. Now I’m eight-teen and will be in college soon. I hope she knows how much those eight minute drives to Kroger’s meant to me. Thanks mom.