A Couple of Goldfish

I’m standing in the check-out line at Wal-Mart last night (Friday evening) at around 7:15 holding a half-full, swollen plastic bag containing a pint of water and two fan-tailed goldfish. The place is packed, swarming with masses of humanity - including a fair share of jibber-jabbering oriental students from Purdue, working moms grocery shopping with their kids, and miscellaneous tattooed, hair-streaked, body-pierced teenagers. A young woman (maybe 25 years old) precedes me, and an older woman (maybe 50) sits in a motorized wheelchair in front of her.

The younger woman turns and flashes a huge Julia Roberts type smile. Her face resembles Julia’s, and her body language says she’s already connected with me. “Oh! They’re beautiful!”

“Excuse me?” I say, taken aback by her overture, and (as usual, because of hearing issues) unsure of what she said.

“Your fish! They’re so pretty. I used to have goldfish like that when I was little.”

The older woman, obviously her mother, smiles and nods her head vigorously.

“Oh! Thanks! They’re for my grandson for his birthday.”

“He’ll love them. Mine grew to be really big – you just keep putting them in a bigger bowl, and they grow to fill it!”

“I’ve heard that’s true – so you think these will live a long time?”

“Oh yes – a really long time.” There’s a pause, and then she adds, “My son is having a birthday this weekend, too.”

“How fun! How old will he be?”

“Six.”

Grandma speaks up from her wheelchair while trying to twist her torso so she can join the conversation. “I thought my own kids grew up so fast – and now I’m learning grandchildren grow even FASTER! Ours is SIX already!”

I nod. “Yeah, I know – it’s the truth, isn’t it? They’re all grown up before we know it.”

She continues. “How old will your grandson be?”

“He’s our oldest one – he’ll be nine. We have grandkids #7 and #8 on the way in a few months...not twins, but in different families.”

Grandma keeps jiggling and scooting herself within the confines of her wheelchair in order to face me more squarely, and speaks with an animated voice that seems truly interested. “OH! How wonderful for you! So far we have one – and he’s sure a one-and-only!” She shakes her head up and down as if to accentuate the fact that there’s no kid on the face of the planet quite like her grandson.

They continue with check-out procedures while the blank-faced clerk scans their spiderman gift bag and cake from the bakery, the younger woman zips her credit card, and signs the pad. Grandma is handed the cake, and her daughter picks up the plastic bag. As they prepare to leave our eyes meet again. “Have a fun birthday!” I say.

They giggle like a couple of schoolgirls about to head out on a lark. “You too!”

I walk out with a lilt in my step. How odd. Those two, well, they’re so….real. Personable. Honestly, there should be more exchanges like this between strangers in public. Little clips of time when people connect momentarily and decide to care about each other in a genuine way – no strings attached.

Then with some degree of embarrassment I also remind myself that I’m just a representative of the shifty-eyed masses who elect to pass each other like invisible ships in a dark night. The Julia-look-alike wearing baggy sweat pants, however, takes advantage of a moment in time to start a congenial conversation - and all over a couple of goldfish. Surely I can learn from this example.