This Sunday was one of the best days I can remember having in a long time. This is not to say that my life is a minefield of bad days with only the occasional daisy poking its head up from the battlefield. Quite the contrary. I have an exceptionally good life. However, there are days that stand out above the rest in their perfection, and yesterday was one of them.
After a morning spent baking a cake and lounging around, Mrs. ACW and I went to the supermarket to pick up our weekly groceries. We made our way through produce and seafood, joking in a way that was amusing us, but I’m sure was nauseating to anyone watching. Still, despite our good time, my cold, pessimistic, cynical, blackened, shriveled heart was lackadaisically seizing away inside my chest cavity, expecting the least and the worst out of people, and constantly having to readjust my expectations downward.
Mrs. ACW and I split up to grab the few canned items we needed, me heading for cannelini beans, she picking up chiles and taco seasoning. After getting the beans I turned around to head out of the aisle and try to find Mrs. ACW, when I stopped to step out of the way of another shopper moving down the aisle, and for a moment, I was standing still.
“Rrrraaaaagggggh!” I heard from the end of the aisle.
I looked up and saw a man with Down Syndrome, and he was pointing at my shirt and making enthusiastic and growling sounds, alternatively. Looking down at my shirt I realized that I was wearing one of the numerous pirate shirts that I own, this one featuring a skull and crossbones prominently, surrounded by the words, “Kiss Me, I’m a Pirate”.
He moved away from his cart and pointed at my shirt. “Do you like pirates?” I said to him.
The woman behind him, who I assumed to be his mother, looked up and said, “Oh, well look at your shirt! He loves pirates!”
“I like pirates, too,” I said to him. He moved closer and touched my chest, his hand patting the skull. Then he leaned in and hugged me.
“Oh, Marty!” his mother said laughing, “Let that man do his shopping.”
He was standing at my side and had slipped his arms under my right arm, and his hands met under my left arm. He rested his head against my chest, against the skull and crossbones, and stayed that way for a few seconds.
“Show him your shoes, Marty,” his mother said while picking through canned products, her bifocals resting on the end of her nose. He made an enthusiastic sound again, and released me, stepping back and lifting his pant cuff up to show me the skull and crossbones emblazoned on his canvas sneakers. As he was holding his pants up, he started making growling sounds again. I figured that’s the sound he associated with pirates.
“Cool!” I said, pointing at his shoes.
Since he’d hugged me, Mrs. ACW had been standing at the end of the aisle, watching everything take place. I moved over to her to put the cannelini beans in the cart, and turned around to face Marty again. He was gesticulating wildly and making happy sounds, but I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to tell me. His mother looked over again and translated, “He wants you to know that he’s going to the dollar store after this, but we’ll see how grocery shopping goes.” He nodded, pointed at my shirt again, growled again, then gave me the thumbs up and said, “Cool!”
I gave him the thumbs up too, and then waved good-bye. Mrs. ACW and I continued our shopping like normal, and when we got in the car I said, “I don’t think I can remember the last time a stranger hugged me,” after relating the story to her from the beginning. “Well, you probably just made his day,” she said.
“He made MY day!” I shouted.
Then I went home and took a nap with my cats, and woke up in pretty much the best mood ever.
