Wednesday, August 22, 2012
I sat and sipped my morning fix, cáfe con leché... waiting for the Senorita's to bring my taco's.
He slowly approached the register with a crumpled ticket, pale green with a smudge of grease. His eyes tired with gray edging the brown color ... he spoke even slower than he walked but his gentleness pierced the morning fog. She lit up to hear him tell her how he had two teeth pulled and how he has not been able to eat till today. She, young enough to be his great grand daughter, with hair combed back tight, darker than an oil slick, rich and smooth, pulled back in a pony.
He knew her by name and she smiled at him with a gentleness and respect that filled the room... that exchange of energy between them spilled over me, (exceeding the cup of coffee jolt) -- an accidental Grace, unexpected and in the least likely of places. Gracias a Dios.