Saturday, November 8, 2014

A.M. 3

Today I get to work with a friend I haven't seen in a while. He only works Saturdays and I rarely do. As much as I would like to sleep in today, I'm looking forward to that hug.

When I meet someone, I immediately want to know them. I want to let them know how special they are. I want them to be seen. And I want to be seen by them.

I like your necklace. That's my favorite salami. Look how much we have in common.

Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am to work in a place with a constantly rotating crop of new people every day, every hour, every minute.  The regulars are the comfort; the newbies are the spice. Some days I can just barely peek through my own fog but other days it's clear and I see right into their souls.

I want a way to honor all the people that are special to me. All these people. All the weirdos. Everybody's a goddamn weirdo.

The guy who's distracted by a faraway sneeze. He has to leave the deli before his turn because he's so grossed out.

The lady who needs me to cut the rind off her ham. It's too dang hard to chew.

The vegetarian woman who dutifully buys oven roasted turkey for her sick cat. She gags when she looks at it.

The old couple that still acts like teenagers. He talks like he's on acid and she thinks he's the king. She pulls him along behind her, laughing at all his childlike observations.

The guy who is either flirting or is just a really pleasant, polite, noticeably present person.

The twenty-year-old twins who always shop together. They both hold onto the basket and quietly consult each other on every purchase.

The young stressed out mom who needs her ham sliced thinner this week --to crumbles--lest her child refuses to eat it again.

The thirteen-year-old boy with braces, changing voice, and hairy upper lip trying on confidence. He orders his cheese looking off to my left and then back at his parents. They stand proudly behind, beaming with pride and thankful that I'm being patient. Every week he's more sure than the last.

These people. I love them. Even the asshole who tried to fight me over the price of Canadian bacon. I love him. He reminds me what this world really looks like. How on earth do I honor these people?