The Perfect Tissue Box

Next on the shopping list – tissues. I could picture it so clearly, in my mom’s beautiful handwriting. Blue ink, very legible, not like mine where I have to ask my husband to decipher what I wrote.
Ugh, that meant the dreaded paper product aisle.
The floor smelled like commercial-grade cleaning chemicals. People were talking, kids were running, parents were reprimanding, and our shopping cart with its wobbly wheel thump-thumping stopped in front of the wall of tissues.
I remember standing in the Pathmark supermarket aisle in front of the tissues for what seemed to be forever. There were probably hundreds of choices; ones with lotion, 2-ply, 3-ply, ultra soft, multi-pack, scented, unscented, name brand, store brand, cube-shaped boxes, and even travel size.
My mom always had to get just the right tissue box for each and every room of the house. The colors had to match the bedroom, bathroom, or wherever the tissues would be put.
For the tissue box going in the bathroom, certain things must be considered. The tissue box had to match the bathroom decor. In the bathroom, the shower curtain would be swapped out multiple times per year. The shower curtain matched the toothbrush holder, and the toothbrush holder matched the soap dispenser, and the soap dispenser matched the hand towels. And depending on the season, special hand towels would be set out. You know the kind that you see in other people’s houses and you’re afraid to use them so you wind up drying your hands on your pants and walking out like it didn’t matter.
My mom would stand there in the aisle and hold her hand to her chin when she was deep in thought trying to choose the perfect tissue box because she wanted everything to look perfect for company. And I would always tell her that when people come to the house to see us. They are here to see us, not how clean our house is. And they certainly don’t care about the tissue boxes. I told her no one was going to notice if the tissue box matches the shower curtain or if there’s a tiny dent on the bottom of the box.
I would roll my eyes as she stood there picking up and examining the 6th or 7th or even 8th box. I wanted to go home and go swimming or just be anywhere other than that store waiting for her to pick out a box of stupid tissues.
A crushed or dented box would go back on the shelf immediately. Crushed or dented boxes were always rejects! It was like there was a hierarchy of importance to picking out just the right box. The condition was equally or more important than the color.
It wouldn’t even be just us involved in this. My mom would often find someone who worked in the supermarket or some taller customer passing by to get one of the boxes on the top shelf.
While shopping, I think even she would get tired of everything. I remember her saying “I would love to have someone put it all away for me.” Like there was a magical fairy or something. Or that she would snap her fingers when we got home and it would be done.
And then there was the task of getting the best deal, one that could be combined with a store sale, or a coupon that could be doubled, or stacked, or a coupon that just had to be used because it was about to expire soon, and she didn’t want it to be wasted. I think sometimes she would even cut the date off of the coupon if it expired already. Shhhhh, don’t tell anyone.
I can still hear the click of her nails tapping on the calculator seeing what we had spent so far. And I would watch her rustle through each of her many coupon files that were placed meticulously in the top part of the cart. Her nails were always nicely manicured and always some shade of mauve.
And then paying for the groceries was a whole ‘nother thing. Yep, my mom would be the one who held up the line, by writing a check, using all sorts of coupons, and schooling the cashier on their sales.
Who would have known that standing in the grocery store picking out tissues would be one of my most cherished memories? I didn’t realize then that one of the things I hated most would be one of the things I miss the most. My mom passed away 27 years ago and I sometimes hear her voice when I’m picking out tissues.
I wanted to be anywhere else but there, but what I wouldn’t give to be standing in that aisle right now. I
want to be right back there looking for the perfect tissue box, no matter how long it takes. Maybe there
is no such thing as the perfect tissue box, but I do know I had the perfect mother.

Donna Consiglio

Donna Consiglio is a humorist who spends more time writing about “not writing” than actually writing. She enjoys making graphics and memes that resonate with writers. Donna also creates whimsical notebooks and merchandise for other authors. Her dream is to travel across the country with her family in an RV, so that she can be inspired to NOT write in places other than her hometown.
Website: donnaconsiglio.com