A Perfect Dozen

I drove through Starbucks yesterday and, when exiting the lot, the line of oncoming traffic was so incredibly long and the cars behind me so incredibly impatient, that I decided to turn right instead of left and swing through Larry's Market. I wanted to pick up some olives anyway, so a quick trip to Larry's seemed an intelligent idea.

I got a few more things than olives, however, but such is life. Since I'd only gone for olives, though, I hadn't stopped for a cart or even a basket. So there I was, twenty things balanced in my muscular arms (stop laughing Jody), and of course every single line at the registers was two or three people deep. It was quite apparent that I was not going to be able to quickly deposit the goods on the conveyor belt to bankruptcy. Again, such is life.

I heard a man say to his wife, "Lane 4!" with way too much energy, so I hopped over to Lane 3. There were two people in line, two elderly ladies and they were together, and they were only buying fruit so I figured it would be quick. $23 worth of fruit - actually, that's not a lot of money but that IS a hell of a lot of fruit. And the older woman, she had the most beautiful white hair, shoulder length, washed and blow-dried into a style that perfectly suited her pleasant face, looks at the slightly younger woman and says, "Are these yours bananas? Because if they are, I didn't get any." And the slightly younger woman says, "Yes, their mine, but you are welcome to share them; I don't often eat bananas." This works out well, and the older woman continues to unload her groceries until she realizes she can't reach the rest from the angle she is at.

So she tells the younger woman, "I need to back the cart out." And the younger woman turns to me, apologizing in the nicest fashion, and I tell her, "Oh, I don't mind at all! Please take all the time you need." And I am sincere because these two women are so lovely with each other that it is totally making my day.

"Your friend has an English accent," I say to the younger woman. "Is she visiting you?" "No," she replies. "She's lived here 27 years. I'm actually visiting her. She's my cousin."

And so we chat - about London and Texas and grandkids and eventually about Karen being accepted into grad school in London. And by now the cashier has rung their fruit up and extracted $23 from the older woman's checking account, and they say goodbye and wish my daughter all the best and are on their merry way.

And now the cashier is ringing up my $105 worth of olives and other sundry items. She holds up the bouquet of roses I've chosen, smells them, comments on their color. "I like two-toned roses," I tell her. "The two colors dry so intensely that they are beautiful long after they've died." She asks me if I often dry my roses and I tell her I do. I don't keep them, but I like to see how the colors intensify when the flower has long withered and dried.

And then she is done extracting money from my checking account, and I gather up my two bags and 1 dozen roses and turn to leave, and the two older women have waited for me. They want to tell me once again to wish my daughter the best from them. And we walk out to the parking lot together with them telling me about the Cotswolds and Stratford-upon-Avon and other parts of the English countryside that I must see when I visit Karen.

And then we say another goodbye and "ever so lovely to meet you!" and go to our respective vehicles. I put my armful of groceries on the seat next to me, and as I look at my beautiful two-toned roses, think, "What lovely, lovely women!" And I pull two of the roses out of their bouquet and get out of my car and walk over to theirs and tap gently on the window (wouldn't do to give them a heart attack in the parking lot of Larry's) and the older woman opens her door with a smile for me and I hand her the two roses and say "These are for the two of you," and she replies, "Oh they are lovely! If you don't mind, I'll give them both to my cousin, she will love them and they'll mean a great deal to her because her husband has just died and it's been very rough on her, that's why she's visiting me."

And I turn to walk toward the younger woman, she has returned the cart and is walking back towards the car, and I see she has been crying, a fact that has completely escaped my attention while she was so pleasantly chatting with a stranger about the Cotswolds, and she holds out her arms and I hold out mine and, there in the parking lot of Larry's, we hug like we are sisters.

And I go home and put four of the roses in the kitchen, six of the roses in the bathroom and keep two of the roses in my heart.