Margaret's List

Margaret looked at herself in the mirror one more time. She tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear and sighed. When had her hair become so gray? Back in the old days, it seemed gray hair had been a sign of something. A right to honor. But on her, it didn’t seem worthy of anything so great. Just another sign that she had survived. 

Shaking her head at her reflection, she stepped to the door. There was no one to say goodbye to. The house was empty, and it had been for awhile. She was the only one left of her family. Her parents had died many years ago. And she had never married, never had children. It was something she would have liked, but it was never an option. Not for her, anyway. So now it was just her in the house.

Grabbing her shopping bag off the hook on the wall, she stepped through the doorway, then turned the lock and pulled the door shut soundlessly, not wanting to break the silence that surrounded her. 

Where the noise of a busy city used to greet her, she was instead greeted with a quiet stillness. No one drove down this street anymore. And most of the people who had once lived here had moved off to find work or had died long ago, leaving their houses empty. There were only a few people left on the street, and they, like her, seemed to want to keep the quiet unbroken. 

Before the war, this street had been different. It had been buzzing with cars. There was almost always music playing, laughter and talking. Yelling. 

She missed the noise of people.

But, at least it was peaceful. 

The quiet was better than the horror that had been the war. The second Civil War had broken out in every place in the country, and her street was no different. Neighbors attacked each other. Friends killed each other. Families split.  

Margaret had been a child when it started. When the nation began to rip itself apart. She had watched as neighbor after neighbor died fighting for what they believed was right. She had watched the Bible burnings through her bedroom window. Had watched the news reports as the nation’s laws changed. The changes had always been cast in a positive light. But, looking around at the deserted street, she knew that what had happened hadn’t been good. It was a bad change for the citizens of the nation. The beginning of the end, it seemed.

Margaret walked past broken down house after broken down house. They seemed to get worse the closer she came to the center of town. And no wonder—who would want to live here, so close to the eyes of the Nation.

Turning her face down to the street so she wouldn’t have to see the destruction surrounding her, Margaret stuck her hands in the pockets of her shorts and fingered the bits of paper in each one. It gave her comfort having something familiar with her, even if it was as simple as shopping lists.

Carefully, so the paper wouldn’t crumble, Margaret pulled the shopping list from her right hand pocket. She unfolded it, and looked at the neat, round handwriting. After decades, the ink was beginning to fade, but she could still read her mother’s handwriting. This was the last shopping list she had made. The last one she had needed.

She looked down through the list. It had all the staples she remembered from when she was growing up. Milk, bread, cheese, flour, eggs.

And it had a few special things too. Potato chips, brownie mix, steak, sweet tea. Things they bought every once in awhile, but didn’t really need. Things she hadn’t had in years. 

Since the war ended, the government had taken over feeding the Nation. Things were just in too bad of shape for the people to be able to provide for themselves. Or so they said on the news. So the Nation stepped in to save them. 

Now, diets were plant-based. No more meat or dairy products. No more junk food. No more choices. They ate the way the Nation decided they should eat.  

And everything was rationed, too, with rations passed out only once a week. No more running to the store for extra of anything. They got what they were allotted, and made do with that.

It had been rough when this new system started. People were hungry by the end of the week, with no place to find extra food. She wished she could say that the people had come together to help each other out, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, people—good people—turned to thievery, because they thought they would die if they didn’t. 

It took awhile to get used to the regulations, but most people did. And those that couldn’t, often chose to end their lives.

Margaret was nearing the Base now. She could see the one building left standing on this end of the street. Back when she was a child, it had been a Walmart. Now, it was a military base for the government. It housed the soldiers that had been assigned to this side of town. And it was where they kept the food and other products that would be rationed out.

A long line of civilians trailed from the building—all of them thin and somewhat sickly looking. Soldiers, only slightly heavier and healthier looking, stood at attention around them, making sure there were no problems with ration distribution. 

Quickly, Margaret slid the shopping list back into her pocket. She missed the days when a person could buy whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, and get as much as they could afford. But those days were no more.

Now, there was only one thing on Margaret’s shopping list. Only one thing she truly wanted. She knew she probably wouldn’t get it, but she kept it on her list just in case. Maybe someday…

Margaret took the list out of her pocket as she neared the food distribution line, and looked at it longing.

She could still hear her mother’s voice.Margaret had been in her early twenties when she had found her mother’s last shopping list stuck in the back of a kitchen drawer, and she had asked about the old days when people made such lists. 

“You could put anything you wanted to on it, Margie. The only limit was your imagination. If you didn’t have the money for something, it could always be crossed out later. But when you wrote your list, you wrote your dreams. Whatever it was you really wanted.”

Margaret looked back up at the Base and sighed. Then she slid the paper back into her pocket. The soldiers wouldn’t ask to see her list. They never did. They never asked what she wanted—just gave her what she was rationed and moved on to the next person. 

But she kept her list with her anyway, because she hoped that someday things might change, and she might get the one thing she really wanted. The only thing she dreamed about. Freedom.