Too many eyes were watching, all of them staring and judging. Sometimes she would meet their gaze just to see them shamefully drop away to the floor or find something else to gawk at. The tight grip of anxiety began to creep into her chest. Beads of sweat started to form at the top of Mrs. Bank’s forehead as she hobbled through the grocery store. Her grip tightened on her basket of items, afraid that at any moment one of these strangers was going to come up and snatch it from her. This idea put a slight panic in her and Josephine struggled to move her arthritic bones faster to the check out line. A smiling young face met her at the counter, and she lowered her head down like a frightened dog, youth scared Josephine Banks. Avoiding all eye contact, Josephine put her purchases on the counter one at a time in alphabetical order. “That everything?” the young face politely asked from behind the counter.
“Did I forget something?” replied Mrs. Banks with genuine concern of forgetting a single item on her list. Her mind started racing trying to come up with possible items she may have forgotten to grab off a shelf. Quickly she grabbed her modest clutch and stared scrambling through to find her list of needed items for dinner. After carefully checking to make sure her items and list matched up, Josephine let out a sigh of relief. “Why would you scare someone like that?” she scolded the teen behind the counter. Completely confused by what had just happened, the teen apologized and finished checking her out. Upset and frustrated Josephine left the store and began to walk home. Her pink worn slippers slowly shuffled against the rough concrete and her sore feet that were chaliced and covered in bunions could slightly feel the cool, firm, bumpy sidewalk. “Almost home,” she thought to herself, putting her mind at ease. Home meant safety and security. It was exactly the same as it was when she first entered the world seventy-one years ago. Finally reaching the small steps to her front door, Mrs. Banks walked up them and then down them and continued to do this several other times until reaching the top of the steps for the thirteenth time. Walking through the front door, then opening and closing it twenty times. Flicking the lights on and off three times and counting all the windows twice. Josephine let out a big sigh and let a rare smile creep onto her face. This was home alright. “Hello George! I’m home!” she said excitedly. The silence of the house was her only reply. “Of course we’re having stew tonight! It’s Tuesday,” she shook her head and laughed to herself. “I’ve been married to you for fifty-three years and you still forget that Tuesdays are stew days.” Again, there was no response, just the barely heard melody of the singing birds outside.