and yet i wonder.

This is what I'm thinking.

I'm fatally curious. Eventually, or so I've heard, this will end up killing me but, for now, I think I'll take my chances. I wonder about nearly everything I see, sometimes overanalyzing to the point of frustration because, well, usually, there isn't an answer — especially when I overhear someone say something odd. I can drive myself nuts by asking endless questions about the meaning, the conversation, the people involved. But, I have to admit, I love to wonder.

This is pretty much the only reason I like to go grocery shopping. Generally, it's an outing that I dread, because people are rude and pushy, all of my shoes hurt my feet after a certain amount of walking, and my husband and I always seem to disagree on the pace at which we should shop. Also, our list is never in order so we end up in the produce and walking back to the milk and then back to the produce, and, oh yeah, we need pasta, etc., etc.

But what I do love about it is getting a chance to glimpse other people's lives. Most of us may think of our day to day as wholly uninteresting, but somehow it fascinates me to think about the myriad of information contained in that one person walking by me in the grocery store; the constellation of people they know that I never will; the places and things they see daily; the fact that their normal is completely foreign to me is something that both perplexes and enchants me. The array of products directly ahead of mine on that sticky, black conveyor belt at the checkout is somehow magical to me as I look at the items and begin to break them down into what they mean to the person buying them.

For example, last night I went to the express lane at Wal-mart and, ahead of me in line was a tall and slender woman with fried blonde hair wearing a zippered, pink hoodie and a pair of tightly fighting, light wash, flare cut jeans. This, I assumed, was a young woman, but as she turned around I saw her lined and leathery face adorned with what seemed might be a permanent frown. That's when I began to wonder about her.

Is she an older woman who wears younger clothing because she doesn't know or care about dressing age appropriately? Or is she actually a lot younger than she looks but a hard life has led to a prematurely aged face? Here she is at Wal-Mart alone on a Monday night. Why? Is she running out for a few groceries while he family waits at home? Or does she live alone? Does she look so unhappy because she hates shopping, like I do, or because she had a bad day, or because life's circumstances brought her to a point where he face always looks like that?

Then my eyes fell to what she's buying and more questions formed in my mind. On the counter was a box of Saltine's, a bottle of Smirnoff Raspberry Vodka, and what looked like a plastic container of feta cheese. Okay. Maybe she's going to have a party this weekend? Or share a few drinks with her significant other after a hard days work? Maybe at her home just then a handsome gentleman was preparing a meal of soup and salad with raspberry martinis and she ran to the store because they found they were out of cheese, crackers and vodka. Maybe.

But when I looked closed at what I thought was cheese, I realized it was a large container of Spinach and artichoke dip and I wondered if what I saw before me was actually her dinner. Would this forlorn woman head home to an empty house and make herself a meal of saltines, party dip and an entire bottle of raspberry vodka? I don't mean to be judgmental, and perhaps this assortment of goods weren't related at all, just merely an array of things missing from her pantry. But her somewhat haggard appearance and refusal to make eye contact with the cashier made me wonder. I hope that wasn't her dinner — or, if it was, she only had one drink with it. I mean, spinach and artichoke dip is really, really good and I wouldn't judge anyone for making a meal of it. But I still wondered.

I wonder now, as I sit at my desk at work, where the woman is, what she may be doing, and what her life is like. I wonder the same about people I pass on the sidewalk and those sitting in the driver's seats of their idling cars next to me at stop lights. I wonder about people I'll never meet, never even lay eyes on, as they go about their lives, even all the way on the other side of the world. 

And I wonder about you too.

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