Some of my first lessons in choice were given at Olson’s Supermarket in Alexandria, Minnesota. Perhaps she knew the budgetary constraints that lay ahead that would force her hand in making the tough decisions, so my mom took her time when picking out the best cart — finding one that didn’t fight her every step of the way. “There’s no need to struggle,” she said. I nodded in agreement, both in cart choice and team solidarity. 

I held my breath as we passed the books and papers. I had learned from experience that begging didn’t work. I simply smiled as we moved into the first aisle of the store. Nothing she chose was at eye level — that’s where all the name brands were. Cereal boxes, while sporting the same bright colors, had names that were just a little off, and rested high upon the shelf. “That’s what these long arms are for,” she said as she reached the top box. I marveled at her wing span and stretched my own arms as we made our way through the aisles. 

Nearing the checkout lines, she gave me the nod. I didn’t have to ask what it meant. I ran to the book aisle. Beside the Golden books were the sketch pads. Notebooks. Big Chief was the brand du jour – it stood out, right in the middle, in the brightest of reds. I climbed on the tiny footstool nestled in the corner and reached for the generic padded paper, just above. She smiled at me as I placed it in the cart. “I have long arms too,” I beamed. 

I reach for my daily sketchbook. The choice to make it a good day, always in reach. I have everything.