I went to the coffee shop the other day, before work.

I carried my usual array of bags, backpack, lunch box, water bottles, you know… stuff.

So when I went to pay for the coffee, I stuck my free hand in my pants pocket and pulled out a handful of change and a crumpled dollar bill, opened my hand and told the cashier to take what she needed.

The 40 ish year old woman whom I’d seen daily for years smiled at me with a tear in her eye and said, “you remind me of my father, he used to always have his hands full, and pulled out money like that and told my sister and I to take some”.

She took the dollar fifty out of my outstretched hand and smiled at me once again and said “ thank you so much”.

I walked away and didn’t think much about it until later.

I used to want to be that guy admired and desired, and here I was being a father figure.

But think about it.

I reminded her of her own father, beloved, triggering a wonderful memory. What’s more, she felt comfortable enough to tell me the story with a wistful smile.

That’s ok… I’ll take it.