Found in the Grocery Aisle

The middle of the day is when the autopilot takes over. You are standing in the grocery aisle, holding two jars when you only need one.

The hand moved before the mind caught up. It is a small mistake, but it feels like proof that you are not paying attention to your own life.

You freeze there, under the hum of the fluorescent lights, wondering how many other things you are carrying simply because you forgot to put them down. But the light does not scold the distracted hand.

It meets you right there between the shelves. It says: go home and tell them how much the light has done for you.

Not how perfect you were, but how you were found in the mundane. The mistake is not a failure; it is the moment you woke up.

You put one jar back. You walk away lighter.

The light was in the aisle with you, waiting for you to notice you only needed one.