There I stood, a foot away from my warm vehicle, keys in hand. I was shivering from head to toe, in my shorts, long socks and knee pads in the parking lot of the IGA. Only one thing kept me from my warm vehicle...passion. I was waiting in line paying for my items when a man asked something about volleyball and my knee pads. I replied, not knowing exactly what he was saying, that I had a game and just came back from playing volleyball. As I tried to politely pay and politely listen to him, I could only catch a few words here and there. He was about 45 or so, coke bottle glasses that seemed to have been safety glasses, lips a little sluggish and talked fast and mumbled. I tried my best to understand and talk with him about how his family and himself played volleyball back in 78 and such, as we slowly worked our way toward the door. He apologized for being rude and took my milk from my hands so I could hold my other bags. We walked out, as I made sure to affirm that I was married. I froze by my door, knowing that I was the type of person that would be late to an appointment rather than be rude to someone who others looked at as retarded or slow. He asked me if I went to church and I explained my situation and he explained some things that made my explanation sound like a poor excuse. I often think, am I here for these, often ridiculed slow people who nobody else wants to sit and listen to for 1/2 an hour when you really cant even understand them.................or are they here for me to teach ME something? Im pretty sure that they are here to teach me something. Sometimes I see it and sometimes it takes a while. Be nice to people, even if they dont look normal. We all have feelings!
Posted on: Tue, 22 Oct 2013 05:37:16 +0000
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