In The Parking Lot

I convinced myself I had to go to the store after work.  I needed a few things.  Though I tried my best to talk myself out of it, I knew I had to just do it.  I parked at the furthest spot from the store that I could.  That wasn’t difficult.  The lot was packed.   I saw carts every where and thought it best to grab one because from the looks of it there wasn’t going to be any in the store.

As I pushed the cart I saw a man in shorts, running shoes and a cap pushing a cart ahead of me.  I wanted to run in the parking lot with the cart.  Because that’s what I do.  But I was worried I would startle him.

I watched his well muscled calves strolling ahead of me and decided he was in good enough health to take a startle and who knows, maybe he would want to race.

So I started running through the parking lot and passed him, pushing the cart ahead of me.

I looked over at him as I passed.  And smiled.  He leaned over the cart and said “let’s race!” I laughed and said okay and took off faster.  He ran behind me.  I shouted back at him “you’re letting me win!”

He said “it’s Christmas!”

We walked into the store and I turned around and said “thank you for making me smile”.   He smiled in return.

He passed by me, later, in the store and said “now, if I can make my kids smile”.

I told him ‘good luck’.

And I was happy I didn’t talk myself out of stopping at the store.


34 thoughts on “In The Parking Lot

  1. You are so funny, Colleen…and fun! I don’t think I have every run with a shopping cart. Probably not even as a kid. Now isn’t that something! Ha! (I will consider it…probably not going to happen, but I will consider it! LOL! )


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.