The Yogurt Angel

It is not everyday that some stranger risks her life for your groceries.

Coming home from the grocery store one day, I had not only my shopping bags, but also my luggage too. I had just gotten back from a trip, and since the supermarket was right off the Metro, I thought I’d swing by and get food for the week before I headed home.

It wasn’t just multitasking that i couldn’t resist, but also the sale on yogurt in the store. It anything is on sale, I’ll buy it in bulk. Sure, you might pick on me at me for hauling it up hill back home in the heat, but I’ll have the last laugh when the zombie apocalypse hits and I am still going strong on my stockpile of 40 cent canned tomatoes and lifetime supply of dried lentils. Just you wait.

Coming up the street, I felt big marbles of sweat roll over my brow as I struggled with my bags. As I crossed the final intersection, the bag of yogurt containers broke, and the little plastic cups began to roll out on to the street. I felt helpless as the walk signal began to count down. Do I leave the groceries? Do I abandon my luggage?

I chose to keep wheeling my suitcases on, but then another bag broke, and more yogurts joined their brothers in front of traffic. I felt hot breath coming off the grills of the cars. Their motors were growling, waiting to pounce. I moved to the curb, defeated.

For reasons I can’t explain I turned in exasperation to the woman next to me.

“My groceries are in the street,”

I’m not sure what I expected to come of that, but what she did surprised me. The woman went out in the traffic.

“No, no! It’s not worth getting hit for!” I shouted to her, and exchanged bewildered glances with the pedestrian who stood beside me, also in shock.

The woman stood in the street serenely, while cars whizzed by, as if she wore a protective bubble around her. She coolly and confidently picked up my yogurt and brought them over to me. I thanked her, trying to be as gracious with my words as possible.

“Wow. Oh, my goodness. You are just so sweet!” I told her. She simply grunted and crossed back over the street, disappearing behind the blaze of traffic.

Why did she help me? Was it because I looked so pathetic and had passive aggressively solicited for help? Had she ever loved and lost large amounts of really cheep yogurt in rush hour traffic, and had since vowed to save others from the same fate? Had she been appointed to protect endangered cultures and had just taken the job description too far?

The explanation for the random act of kindness may never be revealed. The possibility I like best is the idea of her being a heavenly intervention. Granted that I don’t brand myself to be particularly religious, but I think she must have been a Yogurt Angel. Somewhere in the world, protected plant species were being mowed, rare butterflies being sucked into jet engines, and maybe even penguins being kicked (but not by me, mind you), but divine providence saw fit to to save my dairy products. It was (w)hol(e)y yogurt, and it had been truly saved.

Looking at the rescued yogurts lined up in my fridge, I felt slightly awed by their chosen status. I was also slightly worried that if I tried to eat them, I might get struck by lightening.