Leaving the supermarket, I noticed a pile of cardboard boxes in a little fenced off area at the back wall. I wanted to take one but I didn’t understand why. I didn’t need any of them. Then I remembered: the Cupar Co-op of my childhood. Food shopping with my dad on a Saturday morning.
He would always get a box. Pack it with precision, try to get as much in as he could. That time we fitted all the food into one huge box: enough for the seven of us for a week. But it was made for cereal and I can still remember his rage when he lifted it out of the car and it came apart in his hands.
It was twenty years ago when my Dad died. Little things remind me now. Cardboard boxes in a supermarket.