Gardens in the Sky - I

Sam was next in line at Dee Dee's Supermarket. He stood behind a penguin in a powder blue polo shirt and her two young chicks. The kids were playing around the checkout candy shelves.

"Okay, take off the cereal," she said. "How much is it now?"

The antelope at the cash register poked keys and swiped the cereal bar code across the scanner. It took her several swipes to get it off the screen.

"It's 83.78," she said.

The lady glanced over at her children and then back at the groceries.

"Um," she said, making mental calculations.

"Hey lady, there are people behind you," snorted a bull in an Eastland Raiders jersey from behind Sam. "We don't have all day!"

Others behind him grumbled in agreement.

Sam watched the woman struggle. He couldn't help but think that ultimately she would go home with less food for her children.

"Back off, will you!" Sam shouted at the bull, who was purchasing snack food for the game later that day. "You're not on the team, bro! It doesn't matter if they start without you!"

"Hey dude, what's it to you?" the bull retorted.

"Take off the potatoes," the penguin finally said. "I need to get this under eighty."

Sam turned to the woman. "Excuse me, Miss," he said, leaning in to whisper. "Can I offer a little help?"

In his hand was a fifty NXD note.

"Thank you so much," said the lady as she took the money. She had the cashier put back all the items.

As she left the checkout, she thanked Sam again and hurried toward the exit. Sam was brokenhearted as he watched the doors slide shut.

On an impulse, he caught up to her in the parking lot. She was loading her groceries into the trunk of a small yellow car. The car had seen better days.

"Excuse me," Sam said.

"Yes?"

"Would you like some help loading up?"

"Oh, it's okay, really. I can handle it." She smiled. "Thank you, though."

That was his opener. He wasn't sure where to go next, but he was curious about her circumstances. Why was it so hard for a person with young children to buy groceries? he thought.

"I don't mean to pry," he finally said, "but I couldn't help noticing that, um…"

"That I'm having a hard time feeding my kids?"

"Well, I didn't mean—"

"I'm not offended," she assured him. "You seem like a nice guy. Life has just been hard for us over the last few years."

Sam considered this momentarily. He was no stranger to hardship, but something in his heart told him that she and her kids were worse off than he ever was.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Amarie," she replied, holding out her wing.

"I'm Sam," he said as they shook hands.

"Well, Sam," she began, returning to the discussion at hand, "have you ever had more month than money?"

"I've never heard it said that way before," he said.

"That's what it's called when you get your paycheck, pay bills, and then you find that you're out of money before the next check comes," Amarie explained. "Sometimes, my kids get only sleep for dinner."

Sam smiled awkwardly. "You lost me again."

"There are nights when my kids ask me for food, and I have to save the little that is left in the cupboard to have something to give them tomorrow.

I figure they won't feel hungry in their sleep, so I just send them to bed." As she spoke, she gazed through the rear windshield at them bouncing happily in the back seat. "Story of my life."

"Surely you could get some help for your kids from the government," Sam suggested. "Maybe just until you can come up with a better solution."

She closed the trunk, ready to head home. "I've applied for public assistance. I make just over their max income level for my family size. I'd have to quit my job, and I don't think I'd be much better off in that case,"

Amarie said.

"It would probably be a little easier if I could just shop where I live," she continued. "I'd save on the gas. But you can't get any decent fruits and vegetables in that part of Pearl City. So I burn some of the grocery money in the gas tank to come all the way over to Dee Dee's. It's a hard trade-off, but to me, it's worth it." She settled into the driver's seat and closed the door.

"Kids, sit still, please," she ordered her little ones. Then she looked up at Sam. "It was nice talking with you, Sam. Thank you again for your help."

As she started the car and backed out of the parking space, she waved at him.

He waved back. One trip to the grocery store had shifted Sam's entire paradigm.

After his lunch shift at Still Water Restaurant, Sam went to his parents' house. Hearing Amarie's story got Sam thinking about his own mother.

On the crosstown bus, Sam looked at the other passengers. How many of the kids on this bus had sleep instead of food for dinner last night? he asked himself. How many regularly have more month than money?

When he arrived, his mother was on the couch with her feet up. She still had her work clothes on.

"Hello, Mom," Sam greeted Selma with a kiss on her cheek. He sat on the couch and offered her a foot rub.

"Oh, my dear Sam," Selma sighed as her son massaged her toes. "You showed up right on time! How are things?"

"Things are fine."

Selma could tell Sam was troubled. "What's on your mind, Son?"

"I went into Dee Dee's to pick up a few things, and I was in line behind this lady," Sam explained. "She didn't have enough money to pay for her groceries. She has two kids. So I helped her out with a bit of money, and then we got to talking. She said sometimes she has to send her kids to bed with empty stomachs, Mom!"

Selma examined her son's expression. "You know, Sam," she said, speaking slowly, "there are a lot of kids in Pearl City who don't get enough food to eat every day. For starters, you know we're in a recession. So it's even harder these days for people who already had it hard to begin with."

"We live in Nation-X, Mom," Sam replied. "I know there are poor people everywhere, but how can the leaders of this country sleep at night knowing that kids are going hungry?"

"Oh, sweetheart, they sleep just fine," Selma said with a smirk.

"I asked her about applying for public assistance. She said she makes just over the income limit to qualify. And to make matters worse, the stores in her area don't even sell fresh fruit and vegetables. She has to spend gas money driving to Dee Dee's just to have access to better food for her kids."

"Your friend lives in a food desert," Selma declared.

"Did you say desert? No, she lives in Pearl City," Sam replied.

Selma chuckled. "I said food desert, sweetie. A food desert is an area where the residents can't get fresh fruit and vegetables within walking distance. Pearl City has some of them. The community center is right in the middle of one," she explained.

"You still volunteer there?"

"Yep," said Selma. "Two or three times a week. Sometimes I go an extra day if things are slow at the diner. We started a summer feeding program there."

"When are you going again, Mom?"

"Tomorrow," Selma replied. "The governor announced major budget cuts. How did the school commissioner respond? Cut school feeding! No summer lunch at the schools, and they're cutting kids from the lunch program when the school year starts, too!"

"Wow, that's terrible!" Sam finished the foot massage.

"Some years, I was relieved knowing that you and your brother would get lunch at school," Selma said. "I mean, I never had to send you to bed hungry, but there were times when I had to seriously budget our food."

"Really, Mom?" said Sam. "How come I don't remember that? All I remember was that there was always a whole lot of food around."

"Well, by the time you were six or seven, we started the garden out back," Selma declared proudly. "Once we got that going, we always had more than we needed. It's amazing how much food you can grow on a little plot of land, you know."

It was a great deal of information to process. Sam turned things over in his mind, sitting alone quietly for a time after Selma had retreated upstairs to her room.

He was aroused from his stupor by footsteps coming back down the stairs.

"Hey, Mom," said Sam, "can I come and help out at the community center, too?"

Selma smiled at her son. Bless his heart, she thought.