There are months when I postpone filling a prescription because Ellie needs school supplies or a new pair of shoes.
I don’t tell her how difficult things have become.
But children understand more than adults realize.
That Friday afternoon, I stood in front of the refrigerated shelves holding a carton of orange juice.
Six dollars.
Ellie loved orange juice.
I placed it in our shopping cart, then hesitated.
We still needed bread and a few other essentials.
Reluctantly, I put the carton back.
Ellie watched without complaining.
“It’s okay, Grandma,” she said softly. “We can just drink water.”
I felt a sharp ache in my chest.
A seven-year-old shouldn’t have to worry about grocery prices.
“Maybe next week, sweetheart,” I promised.
She smiled.
“Okay!”
And somehow, that made me feel even worse.
We were walking toward the checkout when Ellie asked whether we could look at the Halloween candy.
