Was a time, was a time

Late this morning at WalMart in Sheridan I wrestled a 40-pound sack of dog food from the buggy onto the conveyor so the Associate could shoot the bar code, and then I wrestled the sack back into the buggy.

“Was a time,” I said, “I could throw stuff like that all day.”

“Things change,” she said.

“They do,” I said. “It doesn’t matter how much you don’t want them to, they do.”

She totaled the groceries and things and announced how much I owed. I got my card from my billfold and my glasses from a jacket pocket.

“Was a time,” I said, “I could see, too.”

The Associate laughed.