A Dystopian Scene at Walgreens, by Angela Valavanis
Angela Valavanis is a working mom trying to stay sane in this crazy time. She is the owner and founder of Creative Coworking and Colvin House Events in Chicago and Evanston, Illinois. She writes in her limited spare time.
My eleven-year-old daughter and I bundled in winter coats, pulled on snow boots, and rushed to Walgreens between bursts of snowfall. The city plows had cleaned up the streets, but I was surprised to find that the store hadn’t cleared their parking lot yet. I hoped my Mini Cooper wouldn’t get stuck. It rides low, this car built for speed not snow.
We stomped our feet on the doormat to dry our boots, then headed straight to the holiday aisle to pick out some Galentine’s gifts. She selected a few little treats to fill goodie bags for her friends, then popped down the snack aisle to pick up her favorite chips. She frowned, dismayed to find an empty shelf.
I’m built for anxiety, and in this current maelstrom, every day’s a bumpy ride. My mind raced through the options: Were they doing inventory? Restocking? Temporarily out? Permanently out? Should I be worried? Is this store, my regular stop for so many things, closing?
I scoffed, gesturing to the empty shelves with a slow sweep of my arm. “Welcome to your dystopian future, my dear,” I said with drama, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were born eleven years ago into a land of plenty, but that land is no more. Our fascist overlords have decided we can’t have nice things. Soon we won’t even be able to vote.”
My daughter looked at me sideways, suspecting that her mother was losing it.
“It’s just the Takis, Mom,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll get Funyuns.”
The kids will be fine. The moms? I’m not so sure.
If you’d like to submit a short essay (or poem, comic, or art) for consideration that offers a snapshot of what it’s like for you during this time of flux, please DM me here or email me: deborah@girlmeetsvoice.com