"Living the Good Moment" - Serendipity ©

A two minute read

In my recent post - “ The Unacknowledged Agenda”, I intentionally neglected to tell you all about the most memorable part of my long bicycle ride - breakfast at “The Main Street Family Diner” in small town America.

As I was headed home, but still twenty miles out, my sniffer honed in on breakfast. I was cabling my bike to a sign, when an eightyish-year-old man trudged past headed downtown. I said good morning, but was not surprised when all I got was a mumble. He “sported” a three-wheeled walker, but ambled head down, with his eyes fixed ten feet in front of him. The cliche, “He looked like someone who’d just lost his best friend,” came to mind all too quickly.

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This wasn’t the first time I suspected that advanced age had just wrung the last remnants of joy from someone - but it’s always sad.

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Less than ten minutes later however, I was enjoying good coffee, an endless mound of hash-browned potatoes, perfectly burnt bacon, and eggs. The diner sat maybe forty people on a good day, but on this Monday, only a dozen. I said hello to the guy at the table to my left and we got to talking about life in this quaint town and where he’d left his mark a decade ago — cleaning up the area highways around the adjoining state park. He obviously enjoyed seeing us tourists liven up the town.

Our conversation was winding down when in came the guy with the walker I’d seen out front. He worked his way over to the table right next to mine. The very chipper waitress greeted him like all of the other townies that occupied the place. And then as he sat down, she threw in - “Where’s the Mrs ? ” After a pregnant pause he responded - “She passed away on Thursday.”

As she bent down and hugged this feeble man, he explained what happened four days earlier. Though his loss was unexpected and tragic, she had already beaten the odds. That said, I so appreciated her kind, loving arms being just where they needed to be.

Five minutes later as I got up to leave, I said - “Take care, sir,” and this time his eyes met mine, as he said “Thank you.” This was certainly one of his worst days ever, but he’d fortunately had a place of comfort to go to. Beyond hugs, there was so very little that anyone could do.

I was however grateful, that an out-of- towner had the resources, and thought to at least pay for his breakfast.