He was maybe in his early twenties at the oldest, and he was walking ahead of us out of the grocery store this afternoon. He was walking with a friend, but he was walking ahead of that friend, and he was walking strangely: doing a dance, kind of. Taking sort of mincing steps. Being funny.
Everett and I both noticed him in that way you find that you and a companion notice the same thing without discussing it. We were amused by him, and amused by his amusing himself. He was comfortable with himself. He was not showing off. He was enjoying a walk across a parking lot.
It’s good to celebrate the little things.
We got into the Cooper, Everett was in the front seat beside me. And as we drove away, the young dancing man met Everett’s eye and gave him a thumb’s up and a big grin. Who knows why?
A few minutes later– maybe five minutes or so, long after the dancing man had faded from view– Everett said, “I liked that guy.” And I knew exactly who he meant.
“I liked him,” Everett said. “He seemed really fun, and he was nice to me, and I want to be that kind of person some day.”
I hadn’t wanted to go to the grocery store after work today, but now I’m glad I did.