Someone I love dearly is in the hospital so I've been spending a bit of time visiting. Hospitals and coffee seem to be partners meaning that more than once I've gone to get a cup for myself and occasionally a decaf for her.
A day or so ago, I got a hot coffee from the snack shop. Price = $1.00. Today, I decided to get an iced coffee. I checked my pocket. $2.00. Surely enough for a small iced.
I ordered and handed the $2.00 to the clerk. She shook her head and said, "No. $2.71."
"Really? But a small hot coffee is only $1.00."
"$2.71."
"But I only have $2.00 with me and I can bring you another dollar..."
"It's $2.71."
It felt as if all my concern had been poured into that unpurchased iced coffee, that my inability to pay for it was indicative of my incapacity to help the person I was visiting.
At which point a woman came up behind me, put her hand on my shoulder, and said to the clerk, "I've got it." Apparently, she could see what I would be losing if I couldn't take the coffee with me.
I reached my $2 toward her. "No," she said, pushing my hand back. "Let me. I know how you're feeling. I've spent 9 years in and out of this hospital with my son. Heart transplant."
"How's he doing?"
"Great," she said.
I asked her name, we hugged, and I nursed that iced coffee for the next few hours.
Thank you, Theresa.
