It's All About the Things

Last week, a fellow classmate and I were given a task as part of an English assignment, with an objective which involved observing and seeing with all of our senses for ten minutes straight. We were told to choose a scene and examine it from the inside out, to decode a deeper meaning of the simplicity of what our eyes saw.

So we began our trek, our voyage for the perfect picture. After some serious contemplation during the car ride, Katie and I chose to survey the local Wal-Mart. When we finally arrived at our destination, we took a seat in the store's Subway, on two of their red, vinyl chairs. I'm unsure of what I'm looking for as I tap my pencil against the hard wood of the table impatiently. It finally hit me after a few moments that maybe I wasn't really supposed to be looking for anything in particular; I was just supposed to take in all this scene had to offer.

Our table faced the ladies’ clothing section. T-shirts of every color and size speckled this fragment of the large store. As I gazed before me I noticed a girl hold a green shirt up against her chest, observe herself in the full size mirror in the middle of the section, sigh, and place the shirt back on the rack, obviously deciding against purchasing it. I couldn't help but think of myself as she did this, how I was one to frequently try on clothes and not like how the look on me. I felt for her.

Perhaps she didn't like how the deep, green hue looked against her skin because of the seemingly endless rows of fluorescent lights that stretched across the store. They had a way of giving everything a strange tint. Even the large, displays of Gatorade, chips, and candy, of all different flavors and brands looked sallow beneath its illumination.

As I continued to look around, a positively intoxicating aroma met my nose. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the Subway. For a moment I must close my eyes to focus my attention more on the scent. I daydream about my favorite turkey sub...my mouth watered at the thought of the turkey, the cheese, oil and vinegar, and the various veggies that make for one of my favorite foods. My tummy rumbles.

I only return to reality when I hear the large crash of shopping carts being pushed together and pulled apart. Observing the scene once again I notice that it's gotten a bit busier. People walk on by, male and female, of all ethnicities and ages, pushing their carts and wondering where they should start. The carts are squeaky against the smooth off white tiles of the floor. One woman walks by, a baby crying in her cart. "Shhhhh...." she coos to who I'm guessing is her son. It doesn't seem to work as she wanders out of my vision, and eventually the baby's screams fade until finally, the shrieks are gone.

There are also a significantly higher number of "bleeps" that fill the Wal-Mart. A "bleep" for each item being scanned and purchased. I notice one couple in particular in check out line number 7. As the cashier scans their items, they gaze at each other. After a few silent moments, the man grabs the woman’s hand and kisses it, evoking a giggle from either his wife or girlfriend. I can't help but smile.

At the end of my ten minutes of complete observation, I begin to ponder a meaning of all that I see. All that I can really conclude of my scene is that no matter how much each person differs from the next, varying from each individual personality, sense of humor, outlook on life, appearance, body image, family, social standing, or background, at the end (or beginning in my case) of each day, we all need the same things. We all need the basics as simple yet important as food, clothes, jobs, money, and a roof above us. There are also the intangible things that everyone needs. These include self-esteem, freedom, love, and someone to tell us everything is going to be alright. All these elements put together makes for a happy, satisfying life, and should never be taken for granted. The heartrending truth is that not everyone possesses these fundamentals, and I truly hope that those who do appreciate them, and those who don't never lose their drive to acquire them.