Convenience

My boss is out of town this week. The weather is lovely. I miss my dog. I want to see my honey. I’m sleepy.

All of these things add up to me wanting to GO HOME now. But alas, when the cats away the mice will play but they can’t leave early. Today anyway.

Anyhoo, Friday night on my way to the theater, I stopped in my old convenience store. I’ve always loved my local convenience store and stop in there sometimes 2-3 times a day depending what’s going on in my life. I’ve always been that way, so much so that some of my friends started calling my little store my “boyfriend”.

So on Friday when I walked in to my old little store, the one I frequented probably 8-10 years ago, the manager, a small, gray-haired, Indian fellow remembered me.

He was so pleased, asking me how I was, what was happening, how his life is going. He said he’s so busy, someone quit and his friends ask him how he can keep working all the time and still look so good? And he did, he looked great, probably younger than he did 10 years ago.

He wished me well, told me he hoped I was happy and that life was good to me. That well wish from him meant so much, like he really meant it somehow. I told him life was good to me, thinking of my pup and my man and my nice job and my writing gig and my friends.

I wished the same for him, and meant it.