Thursday, November 7, 2013

Rubbing Elbows With Strangers

If you happened to read this post, you will know that my husband and I recently went to the movies, were the first ones in the theater, and then the next thing we knew, the 25 or so people who also came to the movie sat all around us, in spite of the rest of the seats being empty. 

Last week, when I went to my follow up appointment with my general surgeon, I also got to see the college boy, as the doctor's office is in the same city as his school. On any visit to the college boy, regardless of time constraints or time of day, it is mandatory to take him somewhere for a meal. His tastes are relatively simple, one of his favorite places being CiCi's Pizza, a buffet-style pizza restaurant (the one in our town was blown away by the tornado and has yet to re-open, so he is still making up for lost time by eating at the one where his school is as often as possible).

It was around 3:00 in the afternoon when he and I headed to CiCi's, and the place was relatively empty, with only a few patrons sitting at booths along the wall. We were the only ones seated in the center of the restaurant, which is filled with tables (and vaguely reminiscent of, say, a college dining hall). We were winding down with the pizza and starting to think about eating some dessert pizza (they have a decadent one they call a Bavarian Cream pizza, which I am pretty sure has nothing to do with Bavaria but everything to do with delish) when a couple in, oh, their late 70s came in.

And sat down at the table right next to us.




The woman and my son were very nearly touching elbows.



All the while, 90% of the restaurant IS EMPTY.


See that plate? Bavarian Cream Pizza. Totes delish.


Now, the next part is kind of sweet, as she proceeded to set the table with plates, napkins and utensils while her husband got them drinks. They took turns going to get their food, then sat side by side to eat.

Right. Next. To. Us.

We left the restaurant not long after and laughed about it in the car. My son speculated that perhaps that is "their" table, the one they ALWAYS sit at when they come to the restaurant, and we were infringing on THEIR space by sitting there (you know, like Methodists and the way they all have "their" special pew in the sanctuary).

"And," he continued, "what about the way she set the table?" 

"She's probably been setting the table for him for 60 years," I replied.

Then I had a bit of an epiphany. Or a brain fart. Because the next thing I said was, "Your dad and I will never be married for 60 years."

I did not notice my son's reaction and blithely continued on, "I mean, I intend to live to be 104, but your dad, well, I'm not sure about him. And he was 33 and I was 32 when we got married. 60 years? That would put us into our 90s. Probably not going to happen."

And then my son quietly said, "Gee, thanks for that."

I looked over at him and saw a tear trickle down his cheek. 

What was just a simple math equation and a certain amount of practicality to me was deeply upsetting to my tender-hearted son.

While he is 18 and considered an adult, inside, he is still that little boy who, at age 6, when he heard a news report about a woman who neglected her baby until it died, cried and said, "Mama, why couldn't WE have taken that baby from her and taken care of it?" The one who turns the lid around on my mother's kitchen trash can every time he's at her house. The one who still likes to climb into bed with us sometimes, all 6'3" of him.

And there are no backsies.

Instead, I apologized for being so unthinking. And I bought him a glow in the dark rat, which he planned to dangle over his roommate later that night.

Now, please excuse me; I have a 60th wedding anniversary to plan.



18 comments:

  1. That college boy of yours is a KEEPER! I thought his ability to give them the benefit of the doubt and say perhaps that was "their" table was beyond his years and awfully sweet. And then you hit me with the tear over losing you before you turn 95. That boy is awesome. And really, you as a 95 year old...He has no idea what he's asking for. :)

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    1. He has always been a sweet boy. I've always said that, when I'm old and decrepit, my daughter will write the checks to help support me, but my son will actually let me live with him.

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  2. Oh my word I am SOBBING my eyes out here. You done good with that boy, Dyanne. I particularly love the trash can lid part - we do that kind of stuff to my neat freak Mom all the time. :)

    He is wonderful and clearly he has wonderful parents.

    I wish you many happy returns and wish you well planning that party! :D Betcha he tells that story at the anniversary bash.

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    1. Thank you, Lisa! He's done the trash can lid thing to my mom since he was a pretty little boy. And I have 40 years to plan that party - it's going to be a humdinger! Make sure you save the date - 8/7/53.

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    2. On the calendar. I'll be...83 so probably looking for a fun night out! :)

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  3. ^^Christine^^ is a very wise woman!! She has 6 kids don't chaya know. :)

    Awwwww...how sweet is he! Pretty sure...no...make that absolutely sure my 21 y/o would be dry-eyed and agreeing with me. Oish.

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    1. You have no idea how horrible I felt. Fortunately, the rat helped a lot.

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  4. Oh my heart. Totally agree that he sounds like a keeper. Good job to you for that. And that old couple? I would have been in heaven. I have a crush on all senior citizens. Sweet story.

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    1. Thanks, Amy! My daughter crushes on old men. She thinks they are soooo cute.

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  5. Ohhhh he has such a gorgeous, gorgeous heart. What an amazing young man. That's probably the most heartwarming tale of loveliness I've heard in the last day or so, at least. I'm so glad that there are people like him in this world still.

    And how COULD you! :p

    P.S. Totally love that you appealed to his 6 y/o self with the glow-in-the-dark rat

    P.P.S. cream...pizza? *runs for the hills*

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    1. He really is a good boy. Man. Boy-man.

      He totally loves the rat.

      It's like a flat pie. They bake the crust first, then spread it with Bavarian cream and top it with a little streusel. Heavenly, really.

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    2. He is :)

      I had a non-glow-in-the-dark rubber rat. But I was 7.

      And back it up there a bit - streusel?

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  6. Oh my goodness, that truly touched my heart, that tear running down your son's cheek! Here I was laughing about the old couple and then you sucker punched me with that. lol I can identify; my husband and I just got married and we are 40 and 41 so I doubt we'll even see our 50th.
    Anyway. It is bizarre when people sit so close like that when they don't have to, isn't it? It takes all kinds.....

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    1. Sorry to blindside you! When I started writing it, I really didn't realize where it was going until it went there.

      I typically don't like to think about my own mortality, so I shall revert back to my Pollyanna-ish self and plan that 60th wedding anniversary party.

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  7. Man, you turned that one on a dime, my friend! I was going along and it was funny and then WHAM-O! I'm crying at my computer. Sweet, sweet boy! What a blessing!

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    1. Seriously felt like the biggest failure as a parent at that moment. It's a good thing that he is a sweet enough boy to forgive me!

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  8. Oh my! I am near speechless! My son is a sweet soul just like yours and I often wonder if he will ever lose that. Thank you for giving me hope. What a sweetheart!
    Let me know if you need any help with that 60th anniversary plan.....have a big party and invite us all!

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    1. You're invited, Sandy! 8/7/53. You can be in charge of games.

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