Anniversary Present
Every year on our anniversary, Judy and I celebrate the special
occasion by having bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches for dinner --
a tradition we have held for fourteen years, mainly because that is
what we ate on the day we met
About three o'clock we headed to Harvery's Grocery Store to
purchase the items necessary for our meal. When pulling into the
parking lot there were an elderly man and woman in the car in front
of us. I began to get a little agitated as the man was driving about
one mile per hour.
"If I ever get that slow I want you to shoot me," I told my wife.
"You're already that slow," she replied.
"Then forget what I just said."
The gentleman pulled into a handicapped parking space and the
two of them slowly exited their automobile. By the time we parked
the two of them were heading into the store. The woman was using a
walker and the old man pulled himself forward using a three legged
walking cane.
After picking out a head of lettuce and several tomatoes, we
headed to the meat counter for a slab bacon. As we round the corner,
guess who ends up directly in front of us, pushing a shopping cart at
three feet per hour -- the elderly couple from the parking lot.
Judy and I stood waiting for them to move on down the line so we
could reach the bacon. Very carefully, the old man reached over and
picked up a small package of pork chops. Holding them out to his
wife he replied, "This sure would be good for our anniversary mother."
"You know we can't afford that dad," she replied.
Slowly, the man placed the package back on the meat counter and
the two of them continued down the aisle.
Judy picked out a large package of bacon and off to the bread
aisle we headed. As we passed the elderly couple, the man was trying
to pick up a large package of hamburger.
"The small package dad. The small package," the woman told him.
Judy and I stopped and looked at one another.
"James Ditty time?"
"I think so, mom," I said, as I smiled back at her.
Judy and I headed back to the meat counter and rang the buzzer.
Several seconds later our friend James Ditty came out of the freezer.
"Hey guys," he replied as he shook my hand.
"James, how about four of your best center cut pork chops, maybe
one and a half inches thick," Judy told him.
"You got it."
Judy and I waited for James to cut and wrap the meat. When he
returned I took the marking pen from his pocket and wrote "HAPPY
ANNIVERSARY" on top of the white package.
"How are we going to do this without embarrassing them dad?" Judy asked.
"Don't worry, I got it covered."
Judy and I headed to the bread aisle, picked out a loaf of bread
and headed to the check out counter. After paying for our groceries,
I took the pork chops and wrapped them in a plastic bag. I pointed
out the elderly couple to the cashier and told her to slip the meat
in their grocery bag when they checked out.
Judy and I stood up front waiting for the couple to come through
the register. As the woman was fumbling through her purse, the
cashier placed the pork chops in the bottom of their grocery bag and
sat the sack in the cart.
As they headed toward the door the old man was trying to push
the shopping cart with one hand and hold his cane with the other.
"Can I help you with that," I told him.
"Why thank you sonny."
As the hours passed, we finally made it the fifty feet to their
automobile.
"Did I hear you say it's your anniversary today?" I asked the gentleman.
"Fifty three years today."
"Fourteen for us," I told him.
"Well, Happy Anniversary," he replied.
"And a Happy Anniversary to you guys too."
Judy and I stood watching as the two of them slowly made their
way out onto Perry Lane Road. As car after car began to line up
behind them, horns began to blow.
"Thank you for the anniversary present dad. It's the best one
you ever bought."
I just looked at my wife and smiled.
~ Roger Dean Kiser ~
The books, stories and CDs of Roger Dean Kiser, author, child advocate.
http://www.geocities.com/trampolineone/survive/srv080.htm
[ by: Roger Dean Kiser Copyright © 2007 (trampolineone@earthlink.net) -- submitted by: Roger Dean Kiser ]
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