Dear Lady in Black at Starbucks this morning.
You…yes, you…the one with the mean countenance.
*countenance…such a fun word to say aloud!*
When I held open the door for you going in, I recognized immediately how our Starbucks morning relationship was going to play out.
When you looked me up and down like I was white trash…it made me smile inside.
Yes! That IS a tattoo on my arm and Yes! I am 50 years old.
From your sighs and harrumphs and fidgeting as you stood in line behind me, I suspected there would be some sort of altercation.
I refused to be baited.
And you did not disappoint.
When you slid your right foot and leg in front of me in a classic NBA block-out move, I actually laughed out loud.
Which only made you angrier.
I allowed you your moment and your cuttsies in line.
*in case you thought you pulled one over on me*
I allowed you your moment because, you see, I used to be like you.
Some days…I still am.
But not today.
You think you won.
And you did. You won my pity and my compassion.
Today, you were on the top of my prayer list.