Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Cantaloupe Encounter




After filling my cart with mostly-fresh items at the grocery yesterday, I was about to leave the produce section when I stopped to survey a display of cantaloupe.  I picked up several, checking for ripeness, when a tiny, elderly woman with thick glasses and snow white springy-frizzy hair approached me.

“Could you find me a good one, dear?”  She looked eagerly into my face – not in a needy way necessarily, but with pleasant friendliness.

It had been a long time since I’d seen that look on the face of a stranger.

I told her with a chuckle that I was no expert at this time of year, and that we both needed to wait until late summer for the locally-grown good ones, but I would gladly share what I knew about selecting melons and we could look together.  She agreed, and we spent the next five minutes chatting amicably while searching for peachy-colored skins, punching butt ends for softness, and smelling stem ends for musky scents.  With the investigation of each melon she said, “Oh?  So that’s how you do it?”

In the end, we both decided to take our chances and buy one despite the fact that none checked out quite right.  Nevertheless, she thanked me profusely.  “Now I’ll know how to look for a good one,” she said, smiling and nodding.  Her eyes shone bright; I saw no hint of confusion, although I had to think that perhaps she used to know how to pick out ripe cantaloupe and had just forgotten.

I lingered to check out tomatoes at a nearby island, and noticed her again at a distance, picking out bananas - breaking one select unspotted specimen from each of several bunches. I hadn’t noticed her clothing before, but now she stood out against the wall of banana-yellow in her lavender stretch pants and blue shirt with white and lavender flowers.

As she snapped off her three choice bananas, other shoppers streamed by us with blank faces.  An unattended child, probably bored, tried to pull apples and carrots out of their plastic packaging by poking holes with his fingers.  A man seemed thoroughly engaged in an urgent cell phone conversation, reiterating with a stressed voice certain requests for tomatoes and fresh herbs from the other end.  A frazzled-looking woman purchasing many liters of soda pop leaned heavily on the cart for support.  All in their own worlds, each a separate entity, disconnected.

I watched the cantaloupe woman with the smile still on her face and remembered a time, long ago, when strangers comfortably approached one another in public to talk about simple common experiences.  I was glad this little lady with the lavender pants took a risk there beside the pile of cantaloupe and brightened my day.

I wonder if any of the others noticed.


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