The Grocery List Is a Love Letter

A reader sent us a photograph of a list her late husband wrote in 1998. It was found in a coat pocket last winter. Eleven lines, none longer than three words: 'milk, the good one', 'bread for her', 'oranges if sweet'. She said it was the most romantic thing he ever wrote.

We think she's right, and we think it's because of the length. A short list has no room for performance. Every line is a decision about someone else's breakfast. 'The good one' means he knew which milk. 'If sweet' means he knew she'd send the sour ones back.

Since then we've started reading lists the way we'd read a letter. The ones we keep tend to share three things: they are written for one reader, they assume that reader knows the house, and they stop when the fridge is full rather than when the page is.

Try it this week. Write the list for the person who will eat the food, not for the person in the store. Three words a line. See what it says about you.