Last week I was at the grocery store picking up the latest copy of Bon Appetit, when the older gentleman in front of me started chatting.
"Hey, I'll come to your house for dinner!" He sidled up to me and smiled warmly. "That looks great. What are you making?"
"I'm not sure, yet." Flipping through the magazine, I grinned at him. "Oh, this looks good. How about this?" I hold the magazine up to him, as he reaches over and grabs my hand.
"Oh, you aren't married" He noticed the absence of my wedding ring. When I had been deboning chicken a week ago, I think some bacteria had worked it's way under the ring and my skin had broken out into a rash. I cleaned the ring and then put it away for awhile until my finger healed.
"Well no, actually I am married...."
"Want to trade in the young guy for an older, more appreciative model?" he winked. I began to giggle.
"My husband is 60."
He gasped, one hand placed on his chest for full effect.
"You must be...NO way...." he stammered, looking at me curiously.
"Oh, well then," he placed his hand on my arm and smiled sweetly before collecting his groceries and leaving, "Your husband is a lucky man, then."
Today as John and I walked through the woods in the sunshine hand in hand, I recanted the story to him and when I got to the end, I looked up to find him smiling at me.