I don’t know how to describe my mother other than to say that
- She doesn’t get bothered by too much
- She laughs. A lot.
- She finds herself in strange predicaments. All. The. Time.
I never would have pegged her for a thief though.
The other day, she had driven her Honda CRV to Giant Tiger to get some groceries. Nothing against Giant Tiger but I would venture to say that there is a very specific group of people that would include Giant Tiger on the “Grocery Destinations” checklist.
My mom is one of them.
She brought her list into the store and emerged an hour later with six (!) bags of Giant Tiger groceries. As she pushed her cart through the lot she spied her Honda and clicked on her remote to unlock the hatch.
A few minutes later, she had emptied her cart into the back of the vehicle, closed the hatch tightly and sauntered back to the store to return the cart (Giant Tiger shoppers are nothing if not sensitive to the needs of others).
On the return trip, she spied her ride and walked towards it. This is where the trouble started.
When she tried the door, it was firmly locked. “That’s strange,” she thought to herself, ” I already had it open to put the groceries in the hatch.”
Undeterred, she pulled out her key fob and proceeded to successfully open the driver-side door.
In, she slid.
She adjusted the mirror and looked around.
She glanced into the hatch and discovered that all of her groceries were missing! Someone had stolen her groceries! WHO WOULD DO THAT?? And how did they do it so quickly??
Looking around, she didn’t find the culprit but what she did find made her heart sink like a rock. There, parked directly beside her black Honda CRV was another black Honda CRV. And when she peered through the window, she could see, sitting inside the hatch of the other black Honda CRV, six bags of groceries.
This presented her with a dilemma. Mostly because she now had to figure out what a normal person would do in this case and, of course, a normal person wouldn’t be shopping for food at Giant Tiger.
Some days my mom would be what she would call a “slow mover”. Not today. Like a ninja, she had bounded from vehicle, sprung open the hatch, OPENED THE HATCH OF THE OTHER HONDA BELONGING TO A TOTAL STRANGER and started hoofing groceries like it was the end of the world and she had the last bag of rice.
It wasn’t until she was half way through her little escapade that it dawned on her precisely what she was doing. In broad daylight.
At that point, did my mother look around to see who she should explain herself to? Because that is what a normal person would do.
No. She did not.
Instead, my 5′ 5″ mother slammed both hatches down, jumped into her SUV and squealed out of that parking lot like she was on fire.
Her advice to me? “I was with you all day.”