I found my grandmother’s grocery ledger inside an old recipe book.
Milk — 38 cents. Eggs — 49. Bread — 25.
I had just spent so much on groceries.
I called my mom. She said, Come over. I’ll put the kettle on.
We flipped through the pages. “It wasn’t easier back then,” “Just quieter. Fewer choices. Less comparison.”
Today, shopping feels like pressure to be healthy, convenient, impressive.
Before I left, she said Write your own list. Not prices. Priorities. So I did. Feed people before impressing them.
I went back to the store. Same prices. But this time, I chose with care.
Dinner was simple. But it felt like enough. The cost of living isn’t just money. It’s the noise.
You can’t fix prices. But you can choose what drains you. Sometimes, enough is the most radical choice of all.
