I miss my mom. I used to push all the buttons just as she would walk down the aisle, a mischievous glint in my eye. Each time we visited the grocery store, I’d dash ahead, my small fingers dancing over the colorful buttons of the self-checkout machine. With each beep, she’d turn around, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You little rascal! One day, you’re going to break it!” she’d say, shaking her head, but her smile would give her away. Those moments were filled with laughter and light, the kind of memories that could brighten even the dullest days.
Since her passing, the grocery store has become a hollow place for me. I walk through, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh, and I feel the weight of the emptiness settle in my chest. The shelves filled with brightly packaged goods seem to mock my solitude. I can still hear her voice, echoing in my mind, reminding me to pick up my favorite snacks or to try a new recipe. I wander through the aisles, my heart heavy, searching for a piece of her in every corner.
I remember how she would linger by the produce, inspecting the apples with care, always choosing the shiniest ones. “The best things in life are worth taking a moment to choose,” she would say, her hands gently brushing over the fruit. Now, I find myself standing there, staring at the apples, unable to choose. They all seem dull and lifeless without her touch.
The self-checkout machines are still there, their buttons waiting to be pressed, but they feel like a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost. I can’t bring myself to push them anymore. The last time I stood in front of one, the memories flooded back. I could almost hear her laughter, feel her presence beside me. But it was just a memory, fleeting and painful.
Every week, I return to the store, hoping that somehow it will feel different, that I’ll find a way to connect with her again. But the aisles remain unchanged, their fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like a persistent reminder of my loneliness. I see other families laughing and chatting, and I feel like an outsider looking in on a world that no longer includes me.
One evening, as I walked past the cereal aisle, I spotted a box of her favorite brand. It was decorated with bright colors and cheerful characters, a stark contrast to the heaviness in my heart. I hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grabbed it, a sudden rush of nostalgia washing over me. I could almost see her standing beside me, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Let’s get it! We can make our special breakfast tomorrow!”
With the box cradled in my arms, I made my way to the checkout. I felt a warmth spreading through me, the kind of warmth that comes from cherished memories. But as I stood there, scanning the items and watching the screen flash numbers, I realized that I was alone. The laughter we shared, the spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen, all of it felt like a distant dream.
When I got home, I placed the box on the kitchen counter, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. I thought about making pancakes, just like we used to, the kitchen filled with the scent of vanilla and maple syrup. I reached for my phone to call her, to share the news, but my heart sank as reality set in. There would be no more calls, no more laughter echoing through the house.
That night, I sat in the dark, the box of cereal beside me, feeling the weight of my grief settle in. I poured myself a bowl, the sound of the cereal hitting the milk breaking the silence. As I took the first bite, tears streamed down my cheeks. Each crunch reminded me of the moments we had shared, and I felt an ache in my chest for the warmth of her presence.
“I miss you, Mom,” I whispered into the stillness of the room. “I wish I could press all the buttons just one more time, hear you laugh, feel your hand in mine.”
But the buttons would remain untouched, just as the aisles of the grocery store would remain silent, a reflection of the emptiness I felt inside. And in that moment, I realized that while the world continued to move forward, I would always carry her with me, a bittersweet reminder of the love that once filled my life.
Why Were Olympic Athletes & Other Celebs Spotted with Dark Red Circles on Their Bodies?
This year’s Olympics are now in full swing and it’s all eyes on the athletes.
From archery and shooting to athletics and gymnastics, there’s all kind of sports taking place across Paris, France, at the moment.
One fan-favorite sport to watch is the swimming, and this year there’s a whopping 854 athletes from 187 different countries competing.
But there’s a common theme you might have spotted with some of the swimmers and that’s the unusual dark red circles they have on their backs.
While it might look like they’ve had a fight with an octopus and lost, there’s a very different reason for the odd markings.
It turns out that the large spots are from cupping therapy – an ancient healing technique that involves placing cups on the skin to create suction and increase blood flow to the area.
The unconventional method is supposed to help with muscle recovery and is used as a type of deep tissue massage.
Some athletes were spotted with cupping therapy bruises back at the Rio Olympics in 2016, and it’s still seemingly popular now.
Gymnast Alexander Naddour told USA Today back in 2016 that cupping was supposedly the ‘secret’ to his health.
He added: “It’s been better than any money I’ve spent on anything else.”
Away from the Games, basketball player Kyle Singler has also praised cupping therapy.
“The bruises do look more intense than what they actually feel like, but the benefit from it is really great,” he previously insisted.
Singler continued to tell Sports Illustrated: “You’re not necessarily getting the immediate response that you might want but over time it does help with recovery and loosening tissue and stuff like that.”
But does cupping therapy actually work according to experts? It’s seems as if the jury’s still out.
According to Harvard Health, some studies have found that cupping might provide some relief for a number of musculoskeletal and sports-related conditions. The quality of this evidence was ‘limited’, however.
Elsewhere a 2022 review found that wet (as opposed to dry cupping) was effective for lower back pain.
While the bruises people get from cupping are pretty gnarly, the therapy is generally seen as safe to practice – even if people aren’t 100 percent on how affective it is.
“Most experts agree that cupping is safe. As long as those treated don’t mind the circular discolorations (which fade over a number of days or weeks), side effects tend to be limited to the pinch experienced during skin suction,” Harvard Health explains.
“It’s quite unusual that cupping causes any serious problems (though, rarely, skin infections have been reported).”
There you have it, folks.
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