Five dollars and a chance encounter

I spent a good hour in Target this morning, buying groceries for a one week detox diet.  I wouldn't normally ascribe to such a thing, but this is my [maybe misplaced] attempt at positive self-care.

I was standing in the spice aisle, searching hopefully for a smaller container of lemon pepper than the one I'd found, when I heard, "Excuse me, ma'am?"

He was a simply but cleanly dressed (why does this matter?) black (or this?) man.  Humble eyes, soft speech.  I looked at him inquisitively.

"I wonder if you could help me buy some lunch today?"

I've never been approached like this before, not in a Target and out of nowhere.  But it was something about the way he asked.

I asked him, "What did you have in mind?" (I was actually thinking I'd walk to the in-store café with him.)

He looked down and said, "Maybe $5?"

I almost never have cash on me, but Erin and I had a garage sale yesterday, so today I had a tidy sum. Plenty of judgmental things came to mind, such as, "He doesn't look homeless," and, "I wonder what he's really going to spend this on?"

But then I thought, here I am filling a cart with food for one person - healthy and somewhat expensive food at that - and I'm debating lemon pepper, of all things.  I made some extra money yesterday, and I make some extra money singing today.  I work an overtime shift tomorrow.  My mom filled my gas tank last week - and put some money on my Starbucks card -  just to do something nice for me when she knew I was sad.

Let's be real - I have plenty.  Most days it doesn't feel like it, most likely because I grew up without a lot and still make do without a lot, but I do have plenty.  In fact I'm writing this outside the coffee shop where I just paid $4 for the cold-press coffee I'm drinking, and the ability to use the internet.

Perspective.

And...what if he's really hungry?  I have never in my life had to consider asking someone for money to eat, not even when my dad, our only source of income, was unemployed.  Hell, I have been trying to lose weight since I was eleven. years. old.  How hard must it be to approach a stranger like that, no matter what you're asking for, not knowing how they will respond?

I had a five, and I gave it to him. I watched him disappear around the corner into the bread/granola bar aisle.

Here's what I'd like to think:  I was dressed pretty simply myself - just my old, somewhat stained capris (sale at Kohl's), tank top (sale at Target), and sandals.  No make up (as usual), hair in a messy bun (also as usual).  With my cart of vegetables, beans, some chicken, and looking at spices, maybe I looked like I appreciated simple, good food - and I sure do.  Maybe I looked kind and approachable.  Maybe, to the eyes of those who truly go without, I even looked wealthy.  Maybe all that calmness that so many tell me I exude makes me more easily approachable.

Maybe he was just desperate.  I don't know.  But I'd like to think that something about me told him I was safe, kind, and someone he could ask for help.

I've been taking a sort of Facebook vacation lately, a vacation from unneeded reminders, drama, repetition and ridiculousness, and I don't share publicly all that I write.  But before I get on my expensive bike and head to my yoga studio for class (a sure luxury, albeit a very affordable one) this felt important to share.  There is much I want to change, but we could all do with a little more gratitude, and I'm appreciative of a chance encounter that shifted my perspective.