On my way from the bus stop to my office each morning I pass a small coffee shop. It’s one of the many who have catered for smokers by placing a couple of tables & chairs in a small corral outside, and these mornings there are small heaters above these tables.
A while ago I noticed that on most mornings there was a gentleman sitting there drinking coffee, a man a few years older than me, always impeccably dressed and wearing one of those hats that I don’t know the name of, one that is somewhere between a trilby and a fedora (as I said here recently, I don’t do hattitude). He too must have noticed that I passed him regularly (can’t help it, I’m gorgeous) because after a few weeks we started to acknowledge each other with a brief nod. Then we moved on to raising one hand and smiling as I’d pass by, and these days give each other a loud, cheerful “good morning”.
After greeting him each morning there’s a slight skip to my step, a feeling of well-being in my blood, a song in my heart (well, a muttered hum at least, it is 7.30 a.m after all).
I don’t know much about him. I don’t even know his name. But this virtual stranger makes each day a little bit happier, and I hope that I do the same for him.
It’s a bit like blogging.