Simple Rendezvous

I probably shouldn’t have intruded on the moment. It was Sunday morning and a church parking lot after all. It was neither the time nor place for paparazzi. But there I was, sitting in the car trying to finish up my lesson, and there was the shiny red Kodak, loitering on the seat next to me.

You might have done it too.

I glanced up for a moment, and I could tell by his face that she was coming. It just seemed Providential that I capture the rendezvous.

 They meet there every week, the lady and the dark haired man. I’m just not always there to watch it. It would be simple enough to do since she’s such a creature of habit. At precisely the same time each week, she drives past the church, turns into the empty parking lot behind it, takes a w-i-d-e loop, and heads back to park her car in the outgoing direction.

And the dark haired man always waits.

Then he crosses the street and helps her out of the car.

And they stroll together, an odd couple if I’ve ever seen one. He carries the purse and the bible and bridges the height gap as best as he can to steady the arm. She carries the cane and chats as they go.

I used to think that he helped her because she was old, and I used to think that was the reason she let him. She’s turning 99 this week, after all. The unsinkable old lady was born the day the Titanic went down.

Not long ago, though, I realized that I was wrong.

You see,  I was sitting in my car another Sunday morning when she arrived to an empty sidewalk.  There wasn't a dark haired man in sight.

She glanced around and waited...

She whipped out a little compact for a touchup,

and waited some more.

When she finally started to get out of the car, I jumped out of mine and offered to help her.

The Duchess didn’t raise an oaf, you know...

To my surprise, she refused the offer. Oh, she was polite about it, but she straightened to her full height and assured me that she was perfectly fine.

But then she saw the dark haired man giant-stepping across the lawn.

And folks,
 in a move that would have made Scarlett proud,

that antique belle simultaneously wilted and glowed.

 Really, it was amazing.
I've got to learn how to do it.

And she called out,

“Why there’s ma fray~end.”

And she handed him the purse
 and the Bible,

 and she lifted her arm,

and off they stolled across the street.

And that’s when I finally understood.  It wasn’t help that she wanted at all; it was good old-fashioned chivalry.  You see, my offer just made her feel old. His offer makes her feel like a lady.  

And that's my story for this week. In case you haven't figured it out by now, Sir Lotsa Hair is the Man of the House. Capturing his weekly rendezvous is this week's simple pleasure.

*****

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