Who is all this food really for?

I’ve started asking a strange question in Israeli grocery stores. Who is all this food really for?

In the entire time it took me to pick out my fruits and vegetables, an older man stood by the cherry table.

Going through each bundle of cherries, picking through the stems, choosing the very best fruit for his little basket.

He brought them up to eye level and studied them, wiping the dust from each one, checking carefully for bruises and blemishes.

When he finished, he looked up at me and took a deep breath.

His hands were trembling.

But he smiled.

Then I went home to cut up a fruit platter for neighbors sitting shiva for their father.

I found myself just as meticulous. The jumbo blueberries. Juicy figs. A giant half of watermelon. Sweet green grapes. A ripe cantaloupe.

I was thinking about what someone sitting shiva might reach for between visitors.

And then I thought about the cherries.

Who was he choosing them for?

One of the things living in Israel has taught me is that grocery shopping is rarely just grocery shopping.

Around here, someone is always bringing a meal to new parents. Visiting a neighbor in the hospital. Dropping off dinner for reserve soldiers. Preparing for Shabbat guests. Filling a shiva house with food.

I’ve stopped looking at grocery carts and wondering what people are eating.

Now I wonder who they’re feeding.