The gust of wind attacks us as soon as we step foot out of the grocery store. The stack of groceries was piled high on the small cart, and somewhat resembled the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I hung onto one bag, while my mom controlled the cart. It threatened multiple times to tip, but never followed through with it.

Suddenly, one lightweight bag flew across the parking lot and was out of our control in a second. I stood, frozen with disbelief and some amusement. Part of the bag, the tissue boxes, stayed close, but the Ziploc containers sailed nearly to the other entrance. My mom ran to chase the containers, which I would later find out that they were her favorites, and left behind the cart, nearly being impossible to steer, but I try anyway. I finally feel a break in the strong gusts, and hope for the winds to end. Much to my dismay, it doesn’t. I turn around quickly enough to see that my mother had successfully collected the containers and that there was a car coming behind me. The panic begins to rise in my stomach and I turn around to face the challenge of the driving the cart. Only twenty more feet, I think trying to make this seem better than the reality.

Eventually, we reach the car and quickly toss everything in the car. Once we are safely inside, we see yet another person fall victim to the wind. Or more accurately, their returnable pop bottles and cans. After driving out of the large parking, we see the smallest of the cans, already making its way to the main road.