Buying Veggies

I wasn't sure if I ought to leave the house. It was chilly and cloudy and raining. And I didn't feel like driving in these wet, gray, misty conditions. I would've been much more comfortable curled up on the sofa, under a warm blanket, watching tv, reading a good book, or even taking a nap.

But in the end, a lull in the rain convinced me to go. And I was glad that I decided to walk to the small market to buy some produce. Though the building was small--a farmer's stand really--the selection was always fresh and delicious. And today, I decided to get some lush, green lettuce.

After perusing the delightful assortment of fantastic fruits, vibrant veggies, and fragrant herbs and spices, I was drawn to the lettuce. I bought 6 heads of crisp lettuce--three in each bag. Half would be prepped and shredded along with carrots to make a simple salad. I planned on marinating the shredded lettuce and carrot salad in a dressing of vinegar, oil, honey, salt, pepper, and a bit of mustard. The other three heads, I planned to shred and pickle with slices of onion.

As I made my way home, it started to drizzle again. I made sure my music player was secure in the plastic sandwich bag I was using to keep it dry. Other than my keys and some coins in my pocket, I had nothing else to worry about getting wet. And if the rain got into the shopping bag, that's okay. I needed to wash the lettuce anyway when I got home.

Now I confess that I did ponder bringing an umbrella on my walk to the farm stand. That would've been the smart and prudent thing to do. But I didn't feel like carrying an umbrella. And I was only taking cash to the farm stand, so I decided to keep the cash in the same plastic sandwich bag I kept my music player in. Even though the music player was supposed to be water resistant, I still thought it safer and best to keep it wrapped in a small plastic sandwich bag, just in case.

So my music player was dry, but I was not. Two miles. I was going to walk two miles in the rain to get home. A slight, light drizzle had gently started to soak into my jean jacket. And let's face it. A jean jacket isn't water resistant. And I had picked that jacket not for its water resistant qualities (or lack thereof), but because it felt comfortable; and it was the right kind of jacket one wears to the farm stand to buy produce.

I had chosen form over function. Practicality had given way to aesthetics. And that fashion decision was the reason I was now feeling the cool rain soak through my cap and the shoulders of my jean jacket. Still, I did not regret my decision to leave at home my umbrella, along with my poncho and rain coat. And now I had no shield nor a barrier to keep me dry. To the cars passing by in the end of the day rush, I must have looked a strange, forlorn sight--a lone walker carrying bags, soaked from the steady drizzle, trudging through the rain in the twilight, the gray skies only getting darker and wetter by the minute.

But I didn't care. I was fine. I had some great music going; my arms felt as I were carrying precious treasure; and I liked the feel of rain falling softly down on me. I was in a world of my own, singing along to the songs, even picking up my steps and bopping along to the music that made me want to dance.

If I wasn't carrying any shopping bags, I'd've spun and jumped, popped and locked, and maybe even done some robot moves on my way home. It felt great walking in the rain; I hadn't done it in a long time. And I was feeling liberated and uplifted at the same time. I was in my own little world, only keeping an eye out for traffic. I wanted to be sure it was clear before I crossed the small streets that cut across the sidewalk on my journey home. For the most part, I was in a reverie during my rainy stroll home. And it felt good.

But I was taken out of my thoughts when a car slowed down beside me, stopped, and the windows rolled down. I took out my left earphone to hear the driver and his passenger offer me a ride to get out of the rain. I was taken aback. A stranger offering me a ride? I thanked them politely and said that I was fine. I appreciated their offer, but I wanted to continue my walk home. They nodded, smiled, and rolled up the window and drove on.

I have to say. That was a very nice surprise. I didn't think that people would offer rides to strangers in the rain anymore. I didn't think that there were any more kind, thoughtful people left, at least not in this area. It's been years since I encountered a random act of kindness in these parts. And it made me feel good. I felt warm all over. I felt content and cheerful the rest of the way home.

I smiled as the cool rain fell on my face. There were still a few kind people left in this world, and that made the walk home feel even more wonderful. I was glad that I decided to go to the farm stand and buy some veggies. Not only did I get some delicious produce, but I learned that there are still are a few good, thoughtful people still living in this world. Life still had some nice surprises. And unexpected kindness makes the world just a little bit brighter, a little more beautiful, and a whole lot better.

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