Last night I was in Target ordering our X-mas cards for the year. First year in more than a decade I haven't used one of my own pictures in it, but you'll see why when yours arrives. (It broke the printing machine, but that's another story.)
Since I had to wait, but was told it'd be about an hour, I did some shopping. That didn't take the full hour, so I wheeled the stuff out to the car with plans to come back and wait on a chair in the area. Hitting the cold air, I noticed a black SUV parked in the driving aisle with the engine running. A skinny fellow hopped and quickly approached me, offering to help me with my cart "because it's cold out."
I smilingly declined, letting him know my car was right here, in the handicap area. He split, and using my manners training drilled into me since birth, I thanked him for the offer. Loading up the car, I turned the cart around and headed back in with it. I can, after all, lean on it a bit to make those short distances more comfortable walking.
But I got to thinking. Nobody, but nobody, has ever offered to help me with my cart and getting it to my car, unless it was a store employee seeing me in my electric shopping cart at the cash register. There were a mere three bags in it. I wasn't overloaded, merely, perhaps, a bit vulnerable looking. I do limp on both legs these days. Perhaps my car was somewhere down the row where the lights don't reach well. How would he know? Was he really a Good Samaritan feeling the spirit of the season?
Or do I read too many murder mysteries?
I'll never know. I do however remain thankful for yet another reason that I can park right up next to the store where the lights are bright and lots of people pass. When I emerged later with only a partial card order (I said it broke their printer), the vehicle was no longer in sight.