Shortage (Joshua/Open)
Apr 22, 2011 19:57:59 GMT -5
Post by Eliora Ish-Shalom on Apr 22, 2011 19:57:59 GMT -5
The grip on her shopping cart tightened as Eliora passed the seafood counter, the familiar, and sickening, smell of seafood filling her nostrils. The squeak of leather against the plastic rang out into the otherwise dead silent supermarket, the hollowness of the air making it equally calming and creepy. A frown spread on her lips as she took a deep mouth breath and scurried along, turning a sharp corner into the soda isle. Scanning the shelves, she found the beloved yellow-capped coca-cola, picking it up and smiling at the Hebrew lettering on top. Kosher for Passover, it proudly displayed on the cap, and it found its way into her cart, a few more following. Her mental checklist crossed off cola, now onto matzah. Yum.
Even after eating the stuff her whole life, Eli still couldn't appreciate the taste of it alone. Thank HaShem for cream cheese and lox, which was another thing she had to grab. The kosher selection at the store had grown since her first stop in here twenty-one years ago during her first year at Hammel searching for kosher pickles and matzah mix for soup. The stock boys have grown up and moved away, save for Hank, and the shelves have switched around, but the reliability of food has't changed. Down the bread isle she coasted, jumping up onto the cart's bottom rods to 'ride' it in a moment of unobserved, good, clean fun.
She peeked down the isle, then across the isles, and still saw nobody. No chatty Cathy's on their cell phones, yelling about tomatoes, or crying babies, or whining toddlers, or bickering couples ripping each other apart over coffee choices. It was bliss. It was also pesach, and still feeling a bit inspired from the seder dinner at Ezra's, she began to hum a familiar tune. The Song of the Sea, the song in Exodus as they passed from Egypt to the promised land, was a favorite of hers. Eli's voice was by no means magical or beautiful, but after years of singing on holidays, she could carry a note in Hebrew, at least. She started softly, slowly "Ashira l'Adonai, ki ga'o, ga'a..." Eli's smile grew as she loafed down the isle searching, and singing a little louder now. "Mi chamocha ba'elim, Adonai" Aha. Matzah, sitting alone on the shelf in all its square, dry, and brittle glory in its little simple packaging captured her eye, even with the oreo's teasing her with its polyunsaturated fats. Tempting, but she was a righteous woman with righteous taste buds on pesach. Finishing up the song, Eli reached into her jean pocket and pulled out the real list, and a pen from the other pocket, and crossed matzah off. "Mi kamocha ne'edar bakodesh, nachita bechasdecha, a'm zu ga'alta, Mashiach, masiach, masiach..." Her voice trailed off, but tt felt beyond good, to sing that again, and to finish her shopping.
Even after eating the stuff her whole life, Eli still couldn't appreciate the taste of it alone. Thank HaShem for cream cheese and lox, which was another thing she had to grab. The kosher selection at the store had grown since her first stop in here twenty-one years ago during her first year at Hammel searching for kosher pickles and matzah mix for soup. The stock boys have grown up and moved away, save for Hank, and the shelves have switched around, but the reliability of food has't changed. Down the bread isle she coasted, jumping up onto the cart's bottom rods to 'ride' it in a moment of unobserved, good, clean fun.
She peeked down the isle, then across the isles, and still saw nobody. No chatty Cathy's on their cell phones, yelling about tomatoes, or crying babies, or whining toddlers, or bickering couples ripping each other apart over coffee choices. It was bliss. It was also pesach, and still feeling a bit inspired from the seder dinner at Ezra's, she began to hum a familiar tune. The Song of the Sea, the song in Exodus as they passed from Egypt to the promised land, was a favorite of hers. Eli's voice was by no means magical or beautiful, but after years of singing on holidays, she could carry a note in Hebrew, at least. She started softly, slowly "Ashira l'Adonai, ki ga'o, ga'a..." Eli's smile grew as she loafed down the isle searching, and singing a little louder now. "Mi chamocha ba'elim, Adonai" Aha. Matzah, sitting alone on the shelf in all its square, dry, and brittle glory in its little simple packaging captured her eye, even with the oreo's teasing her with its polyunsaturated fats. Tempting, but she was a righteous woman with righteous taste buds on pesach. Finishing up the song, Eli reached into her jean pocket and pulled out the real list, and a pen from the other pocket, and crossed matzah off. "Mi kamocha ne'edar bakodesh, nachita bechasdecha, a'm zu ga'alta, Mashiach, masiach, masiach..." Her voice trailed off, but tt felt beyond good, to sing that again, and to finish her shopping.
