Grocery shopping with mum

It's always Aldi on a Sunday afternoon. You're always waiting with your shopping bags in hand, slowly trudging along with your walking stick. It takes you ten minutes to get into the car. You never let me help and say "I'll manage son." But sadness overcomes my heart, like someone is holding my head underwater, yet I do not show it. I know you don't want me to worry, but the ten minutes drive is an update on your health, from high sugar levels to all the pain in your knees... If only you knew the angst I feel from seeing you age. It's like someone is twisting a knife in existing wounds. I can see the wrinkles on your hands, which were once silky soft and held me as a child. Your eyes seem puffy and heavy lidded with dark circles. They say they are the window to your soul and I know how much sorrow yours holds. Reaching the supermarket, whilst you take your time getting out of the car, I rush off to get a trolley, but you never let me push it around... I guess it's a little bit of gentle exercise for you. Aldi is always full of diversity, so many difference languages spoken with food from all over the world. I always seem to bump into someone I know, it makes you smile, but you always wander off, until you need me to get something from a shelf you cannot reach. I have to always walk very slowly and stop suddenly, as you examine the fruit and veg... Regularly providing commentary on what is good and what was bad the last time you purchased it... Especially the blueberries which you put on your Weetabix and aubergines that go rotten too quick. It's always so busy with narrow aisles, you can't help, but accidently hit another trolley, so I always keep an eye on you and how you manoeuvre it around.. You are always so much more patient than me with those who lack common courtesy. Then there are the ones who just stop in the middle of an aisle and you have to wait until they have decided if its the red, green or blue top milk they require! I think you get a bit fed up with me saying "That's got too much sugar" and sometimes you don't notice when I place it back on the shelf and I know you are not telling the truth when you say "It's for when the little ones come round." You always frown when I suggest something a bit healthier and pretend you will try it, but whenever I 'pop around' it's still unused in your cupboard. Regularly, you will see a friend and forget your bearings, as both of you gossip about something - in the middle of a hectic supermarket.. I stand there, silent, smiling, but cursing inside... Thinking, come on mum, we've already been here an hour.. Sigh. Then you will give me an update on what she said, knowing, I have no interest at all. It's always the bakery aisle that takes the longest to get through. At first, I check all the eggs to see if they are cracked and then there is a chorus of no, no, no... To all the donuts, muffins and pastries you attempt to place in the trolley and you always give me that sly smile... Upon reaching the cashier tills, which all have long queues, you always forget something and leave me standing there, wondering where you have gone! But return just in time to pack the bags. On the journey home, although you are exhausted, you find the energy to complain about my siblings. How they don't do this and they should not have done that... I just roll my eyes and listen.. Try to say they are busy, but you are not interested. Tiredness does make people a bit grumpy, I guess.. As, I carry the bags indoors, you always say "You didn't have to carry them all at once and are you staying for a cup of tea or something to eat." But, I rarely stay, to which you say "Look how thin you are, you never eat, make sure you eat," but I rush back to the car, as I wipe away tears, disheartened how quickly you seem to be crumbing like a sunflower in late Autumn. And... I know you could go shopping with the others, but you do it to spend time with your son. I wonder when I am no longer blessed with my mother's presence, who will ask if I have eaten or be so enthusiastic to cook something.