I am waiting in the car for Robin, who is in City Market picking up some strawberries to adorn with chocolate later this morning. Across the parking lot lane from me is a white pickup truck. An ancient citizen pulls up next to the truck in an electric grocery handicapped-cart.
He slowly disembarks from the cart, awkwardly moves to the truck and opens the pickup door. He is wearing worn plaid pajama bottoms instead of pants, and they have slipped far enough down that when he leans forward he displays an exuberant case of plumber’s butt. I am amused, thinking “the poor old dude … can hardly walk … needs someone to help him with his costume … and other patronizing twaddle. Then he turns back to the cart, reaches in and pulls out a bouquet of flowers newly purchased at the market. With difficulty he climbs back into the truck with his treasure, and slowly drives away. On his way to brighten someone’s morning.
Sweet, I think.