It has become our Saturday afternoon ritual. I pick my 85-year-old mother up from her apartment in the late afternoon and we drive to Guercio’s, a family-run grocery store on the west side of the city. My parents used to come here regularly, but after Dad died, I suspect it became one of the many places that evoked too many memories of their life together. Especially throughout the 1990s, their Tuesday “dates,” which included movies, restaurants, and outings to favorite supermarkets, helped them cope with the empty nest and reinvigorate their lifelong romance. A few weeks ago I started taking my mother back to Guercio’s; I wanted to help her reclaim places that had once been a source of pleasure and sustenance for everyday life.

Mom and I usually begin our shopping together at the outside produce stand, grabbing plastic bags and picking through the locally grown apples and plums. Within a few minutes, she has already gone inside to buy salami at the deli counter. I’ve entered through the other door, in search of bananas, blueberries, and garlic. Within a half hour, we meet up at the cashier area, each of us armed with bags of goodies for our respective larders.

I want my mother to keep finding joy in food, even as she continues to navigate her solitary life and the realities of getting older. My brother and I meet at her apartment nearly every Friday after work for a simple family meal, often followed by spirited conversation about our jobs or politics. She still likes to cook for us, though perhaps it’s time to start bringing our own contributions to the table.

               Guercio & Sons outdoor produce stand on a rainy Saturday