It’s just toilet paper, but also a sign of true friendship
I was down to three rolls of toilet paper.
My grocery store was out, the shelves stripped bare by 6:30 a.m. I stopped at two other grocery stores with no luck. I didn’t panic. Not at first, anyway. I normally buy a six-pack of toilet paper every week. The two of us, my son Sawyer and I, and our guests can go through three or four rolls in a week. With three rolls, I had time.
Until we were down to two rolls, and I still hadn’t found any. Not at two drug stores, Target or the corner convenience store.
Then my friend Karen and her daughter Sophia stopped by to bring me a belated birthday present. In the bag was my favorite chocolate — and two rolls of toilet paper.
When Karen mentioned the grocery store was out of Kraft macaroni and cheese, I dug in the pantry for a box and gave it to her.
This is how we’re going to get through this, sharing what we have.
My date on Saturday night sent me home with three rolls.
I began to relax. Five rolls would tide us over.
Then Karen stopped by the next day with four more rolls, a gift from her neighbor who works at a grocery store. No, she wouldn’t take any money.
But if I was interested she could get a 12-pack for $16.99 at work the next day.
Of course I was interested. But I felt guilty.
“Quick,” I said to Karen and Sophia when they delivered it. “Get in here before anyone sees.”
I slipped Karen a $20 bill, like we were conducting a drug deal.
“Now we have too much toilet paper,” my son, Sawyer, protested. “We’re as bad as the hoarders.”
That’s what I felt guilty about.
I won’t buy anymore. But now we have plenty in case anyone else needs it.
We’ll do for others as our friends did for us.