Muesli

I walked around Brussels, looking for muesli, but no supermarket anywhere. I’d already given up when I spotted a tiny neighborhood grocery just a few doors from the AirBnB address I’m staying at. Inside, an older Indian-looking woman behind the counter. I browsed the shelves for a while. No muesli. Then I looked up. There, on the top shelf, about 10 feet from the floor: corn flakes, cruesli, and chocopops. A box of oatmeal caught my eye while my thoughts went back to the muesli I recently bought at Leclerc and which was more than a year past its expiration date. The woman sensed my hesitation and asked if she could help. I told her I was looking for muesli. Yes, she said, it’s over there, in the corner, next to the coffee filters. I looked but didn’t see muesli. There, she said, mousline! It was a package instant mashed potatoes. A slight misunderstanding. I said that I wanted the oatmeal, but that despite my 6'2'' there was no way I could reach it. The woman dove behind her counter and one second later re-emerged holding a full-size field hockey stick. She handed over the weapon to me, her potential robber. I was astonished, but touched by the gesture of trust. I lifted the stick and pulled the box of oats from the top shelf and caught it as it came flying down, almost smashing the jam jars in the act. I handed back the stick to the smiling lady, but kept the oats and let the expiration date hidden under the dust.