09.02.04

A little thing happened, and I'm not sure where to put it. Here seems as good a place as any--and maybe someone will understand. I sure as hell don't.

I went out this afternoon to buy gasoline, a compact flash memory card for my stepPater, and pick up my new contact lenses.

First stop, gas station. In Oregon, you can't pump your own gas. Someone has to do it for you after being certified. Even though I've pumped my own gas for 24 years without mishap, I wouldn't begrudge a chance for someone to have a job. Pumpers, they're called, and all they do is pump gas. They don't take payment, so you still have to go into the mini-mart (or whatever) to pay.

I hopped out of Tora, asked the pumper to fill him with regular unleaded, then headed inside. A man followed after me and urged me in front of him saying, "Ladies first." I smiled and said that if his pump came up first, he'd be first. He said, "Oh no. Ladies first. Always."

His pump was called first. With an apologetic wave he walked to the counter and paid.

A minute later, my pump was called. I paid, and walked outside. The polite gentleman was in in his minivan front of me, doing those getting-ready-to-mosey things that you do. Our vehicles were nose to nose at the pumps. He started up his van, pulled up alongside me and said, "I just have to tell you something."

My eyebrows raised.

"You're really beautiful," he said. I said thank you. He drove off.

I was still thinking about the exchange a half mile down the road. At the next red light, I burst into tears. I don't know why.

I cried all the way to the office supply store (three exits down the highway and two traffic lights later). Why did I cry?

Back one. ||||| Forward one.