I was in the grocery store several days ago in my usual efficient, commando style fashion (this is not to imply anything about whether or not I was wearing underwear at the time). Approaching the back corner of the store, just beside the cheese area, there was an older gentleman with a cart angled across the aisle, talking on his cell phone. I eased past him on my way to the yogurts, no expression on my face, but wrapped up in cranky thoughts about grocery store amateurs who aren’t aware of the people around them, and why so many of them are men, and why so many of them are older. Got my yogurts, came around to the paper goods.
As I grabbed a pack of paper towels, I heard the gentleman saying, in a loud, kind voice, “Someone should tell you every day how much they love you, and if no one else says it, I will.”
Well, gosh.
Way to deflate my self-righteous irritation, aisle-blocking older gentleman.
From his tone and volume, I got the impression he was talking to a child, likely a grandchild. I wasn’t expecting such a lovely moment right in the middle of my daily routine.