A Million Tiny Pieces
I was in the grocery store this morning making my way towards the aisle with the Hershey's Chocolate Syrup. When I got to this goody that I've been depriving myself of, I found a man, probably in his seventies, neatly but humbly dressed and quiet in demeanor.
He was blocking my reach so I stood back with my cart patiently waiting as he studied the various brands of chocolate syrup. He'd pick one up, check the price, put it back on the shelf and then go through his large folder of coupons.
He repeated this several times without realizing I was five feet behind him and my heart began to break in a million tiny pieces watching an elderly man make the pain-staking decision of whether or not he could justify buying chocolate syrup. You might think he was just making wise decisions, but have you ever watched something from a distance and felt like you knew exactly what was going on?
That's the way it felt to me.
After a few minutes I gave the polite “excuse me” and reached around to get my syrup and headed off to another part of the store where the pangs of sadness flooded me. His generation were typically hard workers and proud of that and there's still social security for them and why on earth was this decision so hard for him?
I should've done something – something that wouldn't have embarrassed him. I could've had his bill put on my credit card and told the cashier to tell him there was an anonymous person that wanted to buy groceries for the 180th person in line just to do something nice for someone – but I didn't. I was busy running my own errands, checking the time, picking the shortest line so I could get home quicker, to cook and enjoy a tall glass of chocolate milk.
But the chocolate syrup sits on a shelf in my pantry, unopened.
I don't know why.
I wonder if I'd recognize this gentle man if I saw him again. I never really saw his face.
If I ever do, I'll let you know how it turns out.
He was blocking my reach so I stood back with my cart patiently waiting as he studied the various brands of chocolate syrup. He'd pick one up, check the price, put it back on the shelf and then go through his large folder of coupons.
He repeated this several times without realizing I was five feet behind him and my heart began to break in a million tiny pieces watching an elderly man make the pain-staking decision of whether or not he could justify buying chocolate syrup. You might think he was just making wise decisions, but have you ever watched something from a distance and felt like you knew exactly what was going on?
That's the way it felt to me.
After a few minutes I gave the polite “excuse me” and reached around to get my syrup and headed off to another part of the store where the pangs of sadness flooded me. His generation were typically hard workers and proud of that and there's still social security for them and why on earth was this decision so hard for him?
I should've done something – something that wouldn't have embarrassed him. I could've had his bill put on my credit card and told the cashier to tell him there was an anonymous person that wanted to buy groceries for the 180th person in line just to do something nice for someone – but I didn't. I was busy running my own errands, checking the time, picking the shortest line so I could get home quicker, to cook and enjoy a tall glass of chocolate milk.
But the chocolate syrup sits on a shelf in my pantry, unopened.
I don't know why.
I wonder if I'd recognize this gentle man if I saw him again. I never really saw his face.
If I ever do, I'll let you know how it turns out.
Comments
I'll keep that in mind for future pictures I put in the header.
But, more importantly is that you have a heart and I am proud that you care that much to be concerned about the elderly. Your heart will always tell you what to do in these cases.
Lots of Love to you!