Pay it forward

Day Two

It started with less promise than I was willing to give it.  Cloudy, cool, humid, foggy.  I used to love days like that.

Two years ago, we adopted a border collie named Penny.  And that's when I noticed that cool, humid, foggy days like this had a corresponding price to pay for the austere beauty they offered--mud.

Penny is my frisbee-catching pal.  It's a type of meditation, the back-and-forth exchange of disc and dog.  She never tires.  And she never chastises me for lowsy throws.  All love.  

So, I was a bit grumpy when I looked out the window in the morning.  I was not up for bathing the dog.

I set about my work for the day as intended, noting numerous times a sad Penny at the base of the steps, near the back door.

In the afternoon, I drove into town to pickup groceries and a few things from work.  On the way home, I had the idea to grab a take-and-bake pizza.  The family needed a little mood lift, after a week of staring at screens and awaiting better news in the world.

The pizza place was empty.  I walked to the door, and as I opened it, I noticed a woman walking toward me, with some haste in her step.  I held open the door and we exchanged kind looks and smiles.

She jumped in front of me in line (okay, there was no line, and I was in no hurry), and I took the opportunity to review the whole menu.  After a couple minutes, she was still at the checkout, and the person at the till asked me if I knew what I wanted.  I didn't think anything of it, and gave my order.  At that point, I saw that the woman in front of me was waiting to pay for her order, and thought, "Great, their system must be down."  Another victim of COVID-19, or something like that.

After another minute, the woman was handed a receipt.  She turned around, and placed the receipt in my hand, grabbed her pizza, and quickly left.  

It took me a moment to realize that she had paid for my pizza.  I looked up at the person at the till, and she smiled, and announced, "She said somebody paid for her order this morning, and she wanted to pay it forward.  I guess that means it's your turn, next."

The other folks working that shift were delighted in watching this whole thing play out.  Downright giddy, to be honest.  I guess it must not happen all that often.  As my pizza was placed in my hands, I was told again, "make sure you do this for someone else."

As I told the story to my wife when I returned home, we both teared up a bit.  It seemed such a small thing, but not one we will soon forget.

And then I looked out at the grey and gloom.  It didn't look so bad, after all.