Richard

Bagging up my groceries at Trader Joes, Frankie leapt around me deep in whatever story was running wild in her little head. Next to us a very tall old man watched her play.

“Are you going to be a dancer when you grow up?”

Looking up at him Frankie frowned and snapped. “NO!”

“What are you going to be then?” he persisted.

“A doctor!” She stated.

I smiled and made small talk and then he left and we finished up.

Outside in the parking lot I held Frankie with one hand and the heavy, one wheel slighly off, trolley with the other. As we crossed to the car I saw the old man walking towards us.

He handed me a $20 note and pointing at Frankie asked,

“Does she have a bank account?”

It was my turn to frown, he hurried on.

“I’m not going to be around by the time she becomes a doctor but I want her to have this to help her on her way. “

I got the feeling that to not accept his gift would have offended him so I took it and said thank you, smiled and went awkwardly on our way. After I packed the car up I looked around for him. I wanted to thank him again and talk to him. I spied him across the car park and we walked over to his car. I’m tall and he towered over me. I asked him his name.

“Richard.” He said

“Ah that’s the name of my brother and grandfather.” I said. He smiled and nodded. Spying some political looking stickers on the side of his old SUV I mildly panicked they might be aggressive pro-NRA or pro-Trump but upon closer inspection I saw they were demanding more gun control in the US. I relaxed. Richard it turns out is from Scandinavia, his grandparents moving here in the early 19th century from southern Sweden. He was an engineer, retired now, but he used to build bridges. I asked him what he thought about Bezos demolishing a bridge in the Netherlands for the sake of his super yatch, but he hadn’t heard about this news and instead we talked about our roots. I asked if I could take his photo where upon he took off his mask and , as he put it, “his full Scandinavian bearded face,” sprang out!

We said our goodbyes after that, I said I hoped I would see him again. I don’t normally go to TJ's on that day so chances are slim. I’m thinking I might frame the $20 he gave Franks, perhaps it could live next to the doctors certificate that could one day hang on the wall in her office, or any other certificate that might be there. Even if that is not to be her path it will make for a charming story about a strangers hope for her future.