lenten journal: march fourteenth


    The tale of my day is less
    story than scrapbook:
    a stop at the supermarket,
    the tire store, Chik-fil-a.
    Here’s the smile I brought
    home from the young
    woman who surprised
    me with the joy she found
    serving my sandwich:
    “My pleasure,” she said
    I still have a piece of
    conversation, I found
    worth keeping, with the
    young man at Sears who
    sold me two new tires
    and called me “Buddy.”
    But it was in the line
    at Old Navy, where
    I had gone to return
    two pairs of pants, that
    I realized my place on
    the page that is today;
    the line was ten deep
    and there were only two
    (too few) cashiers;
    I chose patience over
    pugnacity and waited
    my turn to turn in my
    merchandise. The man,
    not so young this time,
    apologized for the wait.
    “That’s OK,” I said, “Buddy.”


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