The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, making my head ache as I stand in the grocery aisle, staring at a row of juices. I am confused. Overwhelmed. My toddler is at my feet — crying, angry, frustrated — because she doesn’t understand why I said no. For a moment, I feel like I might collapse beside her and cry too.
I understand her confusion. The juice we always buy lies discarded beside her. She can’t put it into words yet — she just knows it’s hers. The one she gets every time. But now, suddenly, she isn’t allowed to have it.
Her cries grow louder, her sobs breaking into gasping breaths. I feel eyes on me, and judgment pressing in from every direction. Shame creeps up my neck. My eyes begin to burn.
The juice isn’t expensive — less than $4 — but right now, that might as well be everything. It used to be something I could cover with food stamps. Now I can’t. Because the rules changed, and nobody asked me.
I’m a mother in Texas, and moments like this are no longer rare. They’re becoming routine.
