Okay, we all know I can't cook but it doesn't mean I don't try. Every week I visit our butcher (for the sake of the story I will call him Sam like Mrs. Brady did, but that's not really his name). Sam is a sweetheart. In the midst of the busiest day of his week, he always greets me with a smile and more importantly, he gives me encouragement and recipe ideas.
Sometimes we forget that our Butcher, our Dry Cleaner, our Cab Driver are each human beings. Humans with stories and feelings. Sam had a story and one day he shared it with me. Why? Because I asked him for a pound of ground chicken.
Sam was married for over 40 years to a woman who could really cook. No matter if she worked all day or he was in a bad mood, she always put dinner on the table. It was one of the ways she verbalized her love. Sam lost his wife a few years ago and you can tell that his is forever lost himself. His conversations linger like they might be his last. A simple question about a cut of meat can take you into stories from his times working on the line or stories about his grown children when they were little.
The first time I spoke to Sam and I heard his story his woulds were obviously fresh. I realized that sometimes losing someone you love that much can leave you eternally lost in this atmosphere. So today, although I was in a hurry to finish my shopping, I took some time to chat with Sam. Like I do each time I see him, I let our conversation linger as long as he needed me. It breaks and warms my heart at the same time.
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