Hello, I'm Danny

“Hello,” he said, “I’m Danny.”  I’d seen him as I’d walked into the store and noticed him looking at me, but not taken too much notice.  People often look at me when I’m out with my daughter.  When she was very young, it was her copper-coloured hair that attracted people.  Later, it was her behaviour that drew attention and her insistent demands for whatever she decided she wanted, and wasn’t allowed.  Nowadays it’s because of her size.  I hate to admit it, but her weight has gone out of control this year and I’m panicking. 

But, back to Danny.  He held out his hand, and, since it is the season of Goodwill, I shook it and smiled.  “I’m the manager here,” he continued. 

“Oh,”  I said, thinking that new managers now liked to introduce themselves to their customers, being as it was, the season of Goodwill.  “Are you new here?”

“No, I’m not.  And this is my floor manager,” he continued, indicating the person standing next to him.  “We have a video of this young person,” indicating my daughter, “stealing some body lotion from the shop.”

The blood drained from my face as I thought, Oh God, here we go again.  Danny produced his phone and asked if I’d like to see the store video.  I agreed, as my daughter was protesting her innocence and things would certainly continue to escalate unless we could settle this one way or another.  “I recognised her, and you, when you came into the store.  The video is from March, this year, but, look “he pointed, “there you both are coming into the store and there you are,” indicating to my daughter,” taking the body lotion out of its box, putting the box back, and the bottle of lotion down your front.”

It was undeniable.  My daughter started blustering, “I don’t remember doing that, I have no memory of doing that.”

I felt humiliated, shocked, angry, and ultimately, surprised that she had done this.  Usually if she wants something, she sneaks it into my shopping trolley and by the time we get to the check-out I generally pay.  No need to shoplift.  So all I could do was to agree to pay for the item, and thank him for not trespassing both of us. 

I crawled out of the supermarket on my hands and knees – figuratively, not literally – and prayed for strength.  This was only day one of a two-week Christmas holiday…

Fleeting love

It's been a while.  Still.  You can listen to this while I think...

Tell me, how often do you fall in love?  I don't mean the all-consuming, absorbing, self-centered love, I mean, how often do you hear the pure sound of a song that simply speaks to you, reaches your soul.  No one else involved, just you and the sound that conjures up the perfection you would so desire to achieve, but never will.

What about the purity of a child's smile the first time it is given to you, or the outreach of arms that, for the moment, are for you alone?  Maybe it's a sunset that fills you with awe, or perhaps the birdsong in Spring that wakes you on a quiet morning.  It can be anything, really, that touches your spirit and moves you a sense of great beauty or tranquillity.

It doesn't happen often and often we miss the moment, too busy, too tired, too absorbed in something else.  It's fleeting love.