GAIL WHITE Shopping freedom rings with the bell, but I'm in a school daze

I had waited for this moment for a long time.
I dropped my youngest child off at preschool and I wasn't headed for work or a meeting. I was free! For the first time in 15 years I did not have a child by my side. Today, I was alone! Solo! Independent!
I knew exactly what to do.
Shop.
I headed for my favorite department store to shop until I dropped.
The car was so quiet on the way to the plaza. No one was thirsty. No one had to go to the bathroom. No one wanted to know if we were there yet.
I parked the car, got out and stood for a moment. No one needed help unbuckling the seat belt. No one needed his shoes tied. No one needed me to "wait a second" to grab a toy, or look at a piece of dirt on the ground or simply "wait a second" for seemingly no reason at all.
I walked slowly into the store, wondering why I had always seemed to be in such a hurry to get inside, grabbing a little hand and hustling along.
Something missing
Browsing through the aisles, I kept looking around, thinking I had lost something. No one was playing hide and seek between the racks. No one was yanking clothing from their hangers. No one wanted to go to the toy department or the video game aisle.
I halfheartedly grabbed a few clothes items and headed for the dressing room. No one crawled out under the door. No one opened the door while I was dressing. No one stood up on the seat and trampled my clothes. No one told me the outfit I was trying on looked pretty.
Deciding that nothing was pretty, I turned to leave. A mother with a child by her side and another in a stroller was struggling with the door. I opened it for her and helped her and the little ones through. One started to cry. The other was already asking mom to buy something.
"Thank goodness those days are over," I thought, looking back at the struggling mother. For some reason, I didn't feel very good or thankful.
Since clothes weren't working for me this day, my next shop-till-I-drop stop was the grocery store.
Too peaceful
I pushed the empty buggy through the aisles, with my purse perched in the front basket. It looked odd sitting up there. Usually little feet were dangling from the front basket and little hands were waving in front of my face.
"Can we get these?" a little voice would ask over and over. "Pleeaasse, Mommy, can we buy those?"
I had once contemplated tape recording the word no for trips to the store. All I needed to do was turn the tape on the moment we set foot inside and the child's pleas would be answered with a no at seven-second intervals while I shopped in peace.
I didn't say no at all on this day. I shopped with ease. No one wanted to get out of the buggy. No one wanted to ride on the back of the buggy. No one ran in front of the buggy. And no one sneaked food into the buggy.
When I checked out, I was surprised to find that I had bought all those things that I had always said no to before.
As I carried my bags to the car, my stomach grumbled. We always visited our favorite hamburger restaurant across the street after a morning of shopping.
Lunch time
As I placed the bags in the back of the van, I thought about how good a juicy hamburger and some fries would taste.
But the thought of not ordering a fun meal: hamburger, ketchup only; an orange punch; and a cool toy to play with while eating made my stomach ache instead of grumble.
I stood in the grocery store parking lot, half my bags in the van and half in the buggy, and cried.
I had never been so lonely in my life.
All those years of looking forward to this day of freedom, and I felt like a prisoner, finally released only to find nowhere to go.
I told myself I was being silly. I have shopped alone before and been fine. But that was more like an escape.
This was the rest of my life.
The moment I had been waiting for had finally come, and I would have given anything to go back!
But there is no going back. A season is over and new one is blossoming.
This week, when I drop my little one off, I will be picking up a friend.
We've been meaning to get together for ages.
gwhite@vindy.com