“Oh. My. God.”

It was the millionth time my sister, Karla, had said those words. And even though I love her, she was getting kind of annoying. Not that I wasn’t getting frustrated that we had been in line for about thirty minutes without moving an inch forward. And there was only one person in front of us.

And I believe many people would agree when I say no one wants to spend more than ten minutes, nonetheless thirty minutes standing in line at Walmart.

The woman in front of me had about seven items with her: A gallon of milk, a pack of cookies, cheese, tomatoes, onions, and two pairs of spiderman sneakers that her two boys had clutched in their tiny hands.
The boys looked felicitous, holding those five dollar shoes like they were made of gold. Their faces full of gratitude as they looked at their mother. I looked down, casting my eyes on the old beat up shoes they were wearing. The looked like they had been through a lot. I wondered if their mother had bought their shoes a few sizes bigger when they were younger so they could last longer like my mother use to when I was about their age. Maybe this was the first time in a long time that they were getting new shoes.

“Do you really need that ice cream in your life right now? La puedes comprar mañana.”
My sister just didn’t understand how bad I wanted this ice cream. I mean peanut butter ice cream was like heaven in a tube. It was like my drug.
The boys started talking rapidly amongst themselves. Probably about how cool their soon to be new shoes were. I wasn’t sure, I couldn’t really understand what they were saying because they seemed to be speaking a different language. But whatever they were saying must have been positive if the huge smiles on their faces and their eyes that shined  bright with happiness said anything.

“Porque no se apura? Ya me quiero ir!”
My sister was the type of person who easily got angry. I could always tell when she was mad because her face always changed, and when I looked at her it seemed as if I were looking at someone else. Karla kept on tapping her foot on the tiled floor every two seconds. Her arms were crossed across her chest. And i knew that any second she was going to burst.

I should have been angry too. The ice cream in my hands had probably melted ages ago. But I was too engrossed listening to the conversation between the woman and the cashier to care. Sadness enveloped me. Flashbacks of my mother not having enough money to buy clothes for her little girls and herself that she had to give up on her feminism and wear men’s clothes so me and my sister’s could wear what we wanted crossed my mind. And as I looked at the woman I started to see my mother. Clearly the woman didn’t take care of herself. Her clothes looked like old hand-me down rags.

“You need five dollars and fifty cents.”
The cashier was fuming with annoyance. As if she couldn’t believe she had to deal with the woman in front of her. I watched as the woman searched her pockets. Pulling out a pile of change she gently tossed them on the counter. THe look on the cashier’s face said it all. It wasn’t enough money.

“Is that all you have? The total amount was twenty-one dollars and fifty cents. You only gave me sixteen-seventy five. You’re gonna have to leave something.

She didn’t have to be so rude. I wanted to say something, defend the poor woman, but I wasn’t one to get into other people’s business, let alone talk back to an adult. Although, the cashier looked to be three or four  years older than me, around her early twenties.

The woman looked down at her children. Devastation shown all over her face. I knew even before any words came out of her mouth what she was going to say. I don’t know what her exact words were but i knew she had told her boys they were going to have to leave their precious shoes. Their little chubby faces saddened, their eyes cast downward, the light that once twinkled in their eyes gone in a heart beat. They dropped their hands letting them hang limply at their sides, but never letting go of the Spiderman shoes, as if suddenly a miracle would happen and the money they needed would magically appear. They still had hope.

“I’ll pay the rest.”

The words came flying out of my mouth without my consent. But I knew why. I knew exactly how it felt to want something so badly but not being able to have it.

Four heads snapped in my direction. And the cashier immediately said “You don’t have to do that.” I know it looked weird, a sixteen year old girl paying the rest of the money for a grown woman. But I didn’t mind. I wanted to do it. Besides, it was only four dollars and seventy-five cents. That was nothing. I gave my money to the cashier while the woman and her children kept sputtering a million thank yous my way. The boys’ bright smiles returned and it caused a smile of my own to spread on my face. When the woman and her boys finally left the cashier told me I didn’t have to do it and I told her I did.

My sister looked at me like I was crazy.But when I told her our mother would have done the same thing if she had been there her face morphed into understanding. She knew exactly why I had done it. My mother had taught us to be generous. And that was exactly what I was doing.