It had been a long wait, a long queue. Five hours, well managed, with regular updates. I walked away, did some jobs, returned to the screen. There were brief moments of celebration as I passed the markers: fewer than 100,000 people in front of me; 10,000; 1,000…
In the time that I waited, I watched not one, but two delivery vans pull up outside an isolating neighbour’s house. The Sainsbury’s driver had to wait, whilst the Ocado delivery was made. No judgment: I don’t have young children’s needs and wants to satisfy these days.
My turn next, I thought. I reached the front of the queue. They let me in. Into the online store. No delivery slots available for my address. Quick thinking, I added the address of one of my daughters. Having waited so long, maybe I could surprise her with a food order. No delivery slots there either. I cried, not so much for the lack of shopping as for the time that had passed that I would never regain.
I looked at my list. I looked in the cupboard. I found more, much more, than my daily bread.
And then, just when it was needed, the postman delivered a homemade card and letter. I didn’t know the story of Itzak Perlman; it was worth reading. We will make many dinners with what we have.