When I first saw the large basket in the middle of the store I felt my jaw drop open and crash to the floor. I stopped so abruptly that if someone had been behind me they would have shoved me straight into one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. And as much as I would like to say that it would have been a completely amazing and splendid occurrence to happen, it actually would have completely broken my heart (not to mention the amazing items that were lovingly displayed in the basket) if something like that had actually happened. Fortunately for me, I had been shopping at a fairly non-popular time of the day so no one was unnecessarily accosted by my sudden lack of chill when I was presented with such awesomeness.

My mind was whirling with questions of how I could be one of the persons in the world bestowed with such beauty when I was just a regular girl doing regular things on an oh-so-regular day. I immediately abandoned the almost full grocery cart I had been partnered with (yes, the one with the gnarly wheel) to the middle of the aisle (Klondike bars be damned) and slowly inched my way to what surely was my happiest place on earth–Cub Foods in (nowhere particularly special) Colorado. Not a place that I particularly delighted in visiting before, but more than my preferred place to shop from then on out.

As I was forced to stop (since my legs couldn’t propel me through the basket) I looked down and could almost hear angels singing loudly over Wham! careless whispering through the store’s speakers. My breath caught as I was barraged with the unbelievable sight of boxes and boxes of pristine Crayola crayons. And I’m not talking about boxes and boxes of those yellow and green containers of mixed colors (of varying amounts) that took over stores across the world once school season threatened to begin. I’m talking about large white boxes stamped with the crayola logo that nestled thousands upon thousands of singular colors of crayons. My fingers itched and formed into claws as I fantasized grabbing fistfuls of black and brown and waving them under my nose to treat myself to their waxy aroma.

I had never seen such a thing in my life and I wasn’t sure that I was ever going to see such a thing again. Even though my brain was drugged with the idea of being allowed to purchase more than one item of burnt sienna or cornflower blue, I was quite aware of the fact that I was in the middle of my first “in my own apartment with my darling boyfriend” shopping trip and that I had no money in the budget for anything that wasn’t generic in brand or on some kind of in-store special. But they were there and I wanted them. No, I needed them! To the world’s eyes I was a twenty-something kid blossoming into a semi-functioning adult who was attempting to be responsible but deep down in my heart I knew I was a lay down on my stomach and color in my Disney coloring book while listening to Seal kinda girl. If I had to get rid of the halfway melted Klondike (don’t judge, generic ice cream just doesn’t do it for me) bars in order to fulfill a dream I never knew I had then so be it. 

I reached into the basket and began to stroke sticks of green that had perfectly formed tips, still unblemished and perfect to touch. They rolled back and forth under my fingers as I looked to see what it would cost me to own many, many, many of the little loves in front of me. I was more than pleased to see that each crayon only cost seven cents each. More than reasonable in price and easier to justify as a truly needed purchase that would unashamedly enhance my brief time on the planet. 

A quick look slightly to the left of the display sign found me in front of a stack of yellow and green Crayola boxes of twenty-four, flattened and patiently waiting to be filled to the brim with any collection of colors that I desired. And I desired a lot. But truthfully, I knew that I didn’t need to get multiples of those forest greens and silvers and I really only longed for black and brown–the only two colors I had consistently used and abused to unmanageable nubs each time I took time to participate in my artistic endeavors. I now had the power to create a cache of coveted colors that may just last me into the next year. I swear that I almost wept. 

I quickly calculated how many boxes I would be able to actually purchase (I was endeavoring to be an excellent new adult after all) and allowed myself two boxes of lovely crayons. But how to divide the spoils? Should I evenly split my loves into one box of black and one of brown? It was just that I couldn’t really remember which color was my actual preferred and I would be fairly miffed if my choices on that unexpected day left me with a surplus of a color that wouldn’t be properly used in the future. It was a true quandary. 

As I stood there, contemplating one of the most difficult decisions of my life, my boyfriend leaned over and shrugged. Shrugged! He looked around to try to find the cart that he was positive we had accosted from the front foyer and finally spotted his prey. He left me to my crisis and started down the baking aisle. Coward! It was good information to know because if he couldn’t handle that type of decision making in life I was going to have to prepare myself to be the one wearing the big girl pants when other situations presented themselves in the future. 

Realizing that leaving him to his own devices in the store was probably not going to work in my favor, I grabbed the two boxes and formed them into lovely containers that would cradle my bounty into the next few months of my life. I quickly decided to get twenty two black crayons and two greens in one box and twenty two browns and blue in the other box. Red, yellows, oranges, and purples would have to fend for themselves. Someone out there was using that color palate and would arrive soon to gather them up and take them home. I didn’t have time to feel too sorry for them–I had to go on and become the nurturing mother of my own newly adopted family members.

I lovingly cradled the boxes in my hands and hoped that I wouldn’t pull a me and manage to drop the boxes on the overly bright and reflective floor. Coming out of my stupor I realized that somehow my boyfriend had made it to the cereal aisle and was bound to put us into debt if I didn’t interfere. So I turned my back on the basket of happiness behind me and took one, two, three steps and more– back into the land of grocery shopping. I lovingly surrounded my purchase between two loaves of bread and continued on my errand, dreaming about the times I would be able to press those perfect crayon tips onto pieces of paper on those days that I needed to breathe, and not think, and color my day away.

©DRB 2024

Photo by Bill Nino on Unsplash