The time has been great since my last blog. My time in Eureka seems very short, as well, especially when it feels like I was in Ada the day before yesterday and I'll be returning tomorrow.
The weather has changed a bit. When I went downtown to Mika's, I chose to drive rather than walk due to the biting wind and stinging cold. Call me a whimp, but I still have not acclimated to this climate. Getting there, but Oklahoma will ruin my process again.
I suppose that in reality, the temperature difference isn't that great. However, Wednesday I'll be 19 degrees warmer in Ada than I have been in Eureka. Needless to say, I'm excited.
The story I want to tell you happened Friday night at Wal-Mart. I was busy making hats and trying to study Greek when I needed a color to finish a hat. The responsible thing to do would have been wait until the morning. But I have to have some spontaneity, right?
I took to Washington, the closest place to purchase yarn at 10:00pm. I get to Wally World, find my skein (I only needed one), get out my three dollars, and find that only three registers are open and all of them are packed, typical of the mindless-consumer model. I spot an express lane for ten items or less (should be ten items or fewer, grammatically speaking, but cheap junk covers a multitude of sins). I normally have to count my buggy before I whip into one of these lanes, but I was fairly sure I fit the requirements tonight.
Naturally, the cart in front of me was a fairly full cart... In the express lane. The lady with ten plus items in the ten items or less (should be fewer) lane sort of flustered me. Who did their shopping at ten, anyway?
So I thought of ways to show hostilipality, or the fun gesture of hostility guarded by hospitality. I was wondering if I should offer to unload her cart onto the conveyor belt, or ask if I could help her in the parking lot after I checked out.
As I was considering ways to make her feel guilty, she turned around and asked, "Would you like to go in front of me?"
Of course I felt ashamed.
I accepted and felt very unworthy of her kindness. I handed the cashier my three dollars. While the cashier was counting out my forty-eight cents in change, I took a closer look at the woman's purchases, the items that I was so quick to judge. Battle tops, like the ones I played with when I was a child, most likely for grandchildren. Several cheap, single-serving, heat and eat meals, most likely for a person who didn't have a companion, who lived in loneliness and was forced to break bread alone.
I took a look at the battle tops and told her that I played with those as a kid. The cashier then handed my change back.
The woman smiled back and told me they were for her grandkids. She got one for both of her two (or three, I forget exactly) grandboys.
I told her they would enjoy them very much and that she made a very good selection. She thanked me, and I told her good night as I started for the door.
Oh, how beautiful is the human story. At our core, in our souls, we are so brilliant. Why do we always try to mask that light in ourselves and in one another?
