Before attending to my other chores for the day, I stopped by an antique store to look for a corner bookstand for the living room.

While in the shop, a gentleman asked me if there was anything he could help me find. I said no thank you, and we went our separate ways down the winding isles of history. When I did find what I was looking for, the price tag had been ripped off. I asked the same gentleman for the price, and he went to find the other shop owner. When he returned, he started to explain that she was on the phone with the owner, but could not find the words to say that she was making a “call.” He bit his lip in concentration, digging deep into his brain to find the word he was looking for. He apologized, started over, and said, “She’s on the phone to…” and could not finish the sentence. He eventually limped back to the other store owner to ask what he should say. In seconds, she told me that she was on the phone making a “call” to the owner to get the price. He turned to me, embarrassed, and explained that he had had three strokes.

In that instant, I was in love with this man—not in a romantic way, but I loved him as a person. He was incredibly polite and gentle, and was trying so desperately hard to speak with me without any trouble from his condition. It was such genuine experience for me, something I won’t forget for a long time.

Advertisements