Dear Reader,
It’s Wednesday again, and I so appreciate your taking the time to stop by for a weekly dose of fiction. This is another that I just wrote, and you’re the first to read it. Here’s what caused it to come to the page.
After my husband died, I thought loneliness would be the biggest challenge I’d experience. But I soon discovered living alone had many more surprises in store.
Cooking for one quickly rose to the top of the list of those challenges. Buying for one, a corollary.
At first, I kept the routine I’d had throughout our marriage—weekly supermarket visits, occasional COSTCO safaris. Since I worked at the university for most of my adult life, I planned meals on the semester schedule, freezing containers of spaghetti gravy and chili, and at least three lasagnas by the end of summer—all intended for future meals that I could have on those nights I dragged home after a day and didn’t want to cook.
You’re already ahead of me by now. How in the world could one person need all of that? Well, I didn’t, but it took one year before the shock of singlehood dissipated, before grief loosened its grip, and common sense emerged.
It was remembering that year that prompted this dose of fiction.
Fugue On Aisle Nine
Kat made the grocery list before pulling out of the university parking lot. Getting through the store was always so much smoother if she knew exactly what she’d need to assemble dinner. And she was tired. Midterms did that to her as well as her students.
The route between campus and her favorite market took exactly twelve minutes and thirty seconds to navigate. The car must have gone there on its own, because on the way she worked to solve the problems of the day, the week, the year—well, at least the one that nagged for her attention at the moment.
Jude had been gone four weeks now, and she still hadn’t decided how to celebrate his life. He’d asked for a party with friends and family. Something with good food and music—jazz, his favorite. She had some ideas, but she hadn’t done anything to put them into action.
At the store, she made her usual perimeter sweep for fresh vegetables, fruit, then on to dairy and meat. Chicken… maybe a couple. That would save her a trip back next week when she’d be grading papers. But she still had over half of that lasagna to eat, so maybe not two chickens, even though she was sick of lasagna.
That had been one of Jude’s favorite dinners—her lasagna. An 8 x 8 baking dish lasted exactly one meal and two of his mid-day weekend snacks. He’d forgive her if she didn’t serve that at his party and let a caterer take over the “good food department” this one time.
“Are you being helped?” The butcher’s voice brought her attention back from thinking about that future event, the one that would put a declarative period to a lifetime.
“Uh, yes. Chicken. One. Can you quarter it, please?” That way, she could freeze most of it. Good idea. The freezing.
She lifted the neatly wrapped bundle from the counter, glad that she’d finished the list. Making her way down a center aisle to the checkout, she stopped to admire the neatly organized rows of cans. All the label images in line. The Split Pea. The Minestrone. Jude loved her homemade minestrone. Another of his favorite meals, especially in the cold months.
Thank you, Pixabay, for the Image
She should buy a few cans of soup. No cooking. No freezing. Easy cleanup. She wouldn’t have to be in the kitchen long at all. Instead, she could spend the time in the evening…in the evening…
Blinking through a sudden mist, she stared down at the two cans, one clutched in each hand. She didn’t remember picking those up. Then the cart. It was filled with far too many items. She wouldn’t be able to eat half of it. She glanced up at the sign overhead, Aisle 9 Soup. How had she wound up here?
Another 5 Star Review: “Inspired by real events, it’s a story of resilience, courage and determination. The story talks about finding internal courage in the face of adversity. I recommend this book to all readers.”
Yes, eating for one. After 10 years, I'm still figuring it out. I could really relate to your story. And I'm glad the grief of losing your husband has eased for you, though I know it's something you have to live with.
Write what we know, that's what the experts say. Very well done. Heavy sigh.