A thief

I can still, even to this day see the image. We are walking along in the grocery store. On the ground I see a grape. I don't want anyone to step on it so I pick it up. I look around but there are no garbage cans. I can't put it back up with the grapes, someone might eat it, it has been on the floor.

I don't offer it to my mother, perhaps she is busy, perhaps it doesn't cross my mind. I put it in my pocket. When we get home I will throw it away. It is garbage. But we get home, and I don't remember. It stays in my pocket and then my mom does laundry and she finds the grape.

I remember she's screaming. I'm a thief, why would I steal? Hasn't she taught me better than that? What was I thinking? I'm crying, I can't help it. I try to tell her, try to get it through to her. It was on the floor. I didn't want someone to step on it. I didn't' steal it.

Finally, I think she gets it. I'm unsure that she believes me but she knows my side of the story and I am free to go. No apology, nothing. Just free to go. My mom thinks I'm a thief, why would she think I would steal? I'm a good girl....