Sour Cream and Asiago

We were in a hurry and she was hovering uncertainly between two glass refrigerator doors at the back of Aldi's loop. It's my least-disliked place to shop because of the simplicity. Choices are blessedly limited and the aisles almost form a one-way traffic pattern that keeps everyone moving. However, this diminutive elderly female in a tan duster (somehow "London Fog" comes to mind) was hindering my procurement of lemonade. I calculated the distance and necessary speed, slipped in behind her, snatched the bottle, and turned triumphantly to the cart. 

But I was stopped by an arm on my sleeve and an earnest face lifted inquiringly to mine. 

"Can you read this?" Her manicured nails tapped to underline some words on a plastic container. They matched the lipstick on her carefully made up face.

I glanced around, but my husband had disappeared in search of avocadoes. 

"I don't know what it says and I can't be sure it's real."

Skimming the bold red type I assured her that it claimed to be sour cream, and purported to be real. 
"Oh, good," she gushed. "I'm making cheesecake and I need the right ingredients."

Suddenly I realized that I had heard these same words when we were around the corner choosing our granola. This conversation had occurred when a previous shopper attempted to access the cold foods!
I nodded and mumbled and hurried to put distance between us.
At the hard cheese bin I scanned the array. Seeing no asiago, I was about to select the parmesan, when the blue label on a wedge at the back proclaimed the presence of my favorite. On tiptoe I released it from the jumble and swiveled in search of my cart chauffeur. Instead, I encountered those eyes determined to lock with mine. 
"Thank you for your help back there. I just had to be sure. Is that asiago?" she steadfastly inquired. I nodded that it was. Where was my shopping pal?
"I just love that cheese. I like to eat slices of it."
I relented. A little.
"I do too."
Her smile became conspiratorial. "It's best to slice it really thin."

And at that, she broke through. We were exactly the same, I agreed. We grinned at one another and then she moved in an opposite direction, as if finally satisfied with our encounter. I didn't see her again, but I have thought about her a few more times. 
I imagine that small personage fretting about preparations for something she used to accomplish routinely.
And then I wonder if there really is an occasion that requires her stretching and reaching beyond her comfortable repertoire -- that leaves her stumbling over labels and soliciting aid from strangers.
Perhaps shopping for ingredients is the closest she can come to being part of the celebratory gatherings so prevalent these days. Or maybe it provides a plausible reason to get dressed up and go out...hoping to look someone in the eye and share a smile.

I wish I had given in more easily. I wish I had given more.

You who bring good tidings to Zion, go up on a high mountain. You who bring good tidings to Jerusalem, lift up your voice with a shout, lift it up, do not be afraid; say to the towns of Judah, "Here is your God!"
See, the Sovereign LORD comes with power, and his arm rules for him. See, his reward is with him, and his recompense accompanies him.                         
He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.