I miss my mom. I used to push all the buttons just as she would walk down the aisle, a mischievous glint in my eye. Each time we visited the grocery store, I’d dash ahead, my small fingers dancing over the colorful buttons of the self-checkout machine. With each beep, she’d turn around, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You little rascal! One day, you’re going to break it!” she’d say, shaking her head, but her smile would give her away. Those moments were filled with laughter and light, the kind of memories that could brighten even the dullest days.
Since her passing, the grocery store has become a hollow place for me. I walk through, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh, and I feel the weight of the emptiness settle in my chest. The shelves filled with brightly packaged goods seem to mock my solitude. I can still hear her voice, echoing in my mind, reminding me to pick up my favorite snacks or to try a new recipe. I wander through the aisles, my heart heavy, searching for a piece of her in every corner.
I remember how she would linger by the produce, inspecting the apples with care, always choosing the shiniest ones. “The best things in life are worth taking a moment to choose,” she would say, her hands gently brushing over the fruit. Now, I find myself standing there, staring at the apples, unable to choose. They all seem dull and lifeless without her touch.
The self-checkout machines are still there, their buttons waiting to be pressed, but they feel like a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost. I can’t bring myself to push them anymore. The last time I stood in front of one, the memories flooded back. I could almost hear her laughter, feel her presence beside me. But it was just a memory, fleeting and painful.
Every week, I return to the store, hoping that somehow it will feel different, that I’ll find a way to connect with her again. But the aisles remain unchanged, their fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like a persistent reminder of my loneliness. I see other families laughing and chatting, and I feel like an outsider looking in on a world that no longer includes me.
One evening, as I walked past the cereal aisle, I spotted a box of her favorite brand. It was decorated with bright colors and cheerful characters, a stark contrast to the heaviness in my heart. I hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grabbed it, a sudden rush of nostalgia washing over me. I could almost see her standing beside me, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Let’s get it! We can make our special breakfast tomorrow!”
With the box cradled in my arms, I made my way to the checkout. I felt a warmth spreading through me, the kind of warmth that comes from cherished memories. But as I stood there, scanning the items and watching the screen flash numbers, I realized that I was alone. The laughter we shared, the spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen, all of it felt like a distant dream.
When I got home, I placed the box on the kitchen counter, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. I thought about making pancakes, just like we used to, the kitchen filled with the scent of vanilla and maple syrup. I reached for my phone to call her, to share the news, but my heart sank as reality set in. There would be no more calls, no more laughter echoing through the house.
That night, I sat in the dark, the box of cereal beside me, feeling the weight of my grief settle in. I poured myself a bowl, the sound of the cereal hitting the milk breaking the silence. As I took the first bite, tears streamed down my cheeks. Each crunch reminded me of the moments we had shared, and I felt an ache in my chest for the warmth of her presence.
“I miss you, Mom,” I whispered into the stillness of the room. “I wish I could press all the buttons just one more time, hear you laugh, feel your hand in mine.”
But the buttons would remain untouched, just as the aisles of the grocery store would remain silent, a reflection of the emptiness I felt inside. And in that moment, I realized that while the world continued to move forward, I would always carry her with me, a bittersweet reminder of the love that once filled my life.
Visual test: Only those with the eyesight of a hawk can find the 7 animals hidden in the image
Every day, our eyes and minds are bombarded with images, writings, and lights of all kinds.
And at the end of a long day, it would be good to let them rest and recover, especially since many of these stimuli can be harmful.
Today, we want to propose a test that will allow you to train both your eyes and your brain.
In fact, thanks to this visual test, you can put your observation skills to the test.
Only those with the eyesight of a hawk can find the 7 animals hidden in the image.
In this test, you won’t have a time limit because the challenge is not based on speed but on the ability to identify the 7 hidden animals.
Only those with a particular skill can find all seven intruders. If you’re ready, let’s start the visual test.
Here’s the image. As you can see, there’s a climber, but there are also 7 animals hidden with him.
Observe every detail carefully and discover where the little friends are hiding.
To increase the fun, you can challenge friends and family to see who finds the most animals in the least amount of time.
Tests like this allow our eyes and brains to work optimally.
Despite the effort, they are not overloaded or damaged.
And just like in a gym, every time, we have to do a little more to get results.
With today’s training, you can see truly optimal results.
But, going back to our test, even though there are no time limits, we are sure that many of you will want to know the solution to the visual test.
So it’s time to reveal where the 7 animals are hiding in the figure.
Here they are, circled in red. Many have found it productive and advantageous to flip the image so they can see them in the correct direction.
Flipping the image makes it easier to distinguish the different little animals hidden in the figure.
If you managed to find all the intruders, congratulations, you have truly impressive eyesight.
If, on the other hand, you couldn’t find all 7 little ones, don’t worry, you can find many other tests like this that will allow you to continue your training.
Leave a Reply