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The Small Window

6/2/2020

16 Comments

 
“Tap… tap… tap.” I looked up to see a masked woman with a pen and a notebook ready to take an order. I lowered my window. “Hi,” I said. “Hello. Can I take your order?” she asked. “Oh, you’re open! Great!”

It may have been just 2-3 minutes earlier that I had parked in front of the slightly hidden Middle Eastern restaurant. The tiny restaurant looked deserted. There didn’t seem to be any customers and taped to the outside of the glass door was a small paper sign, “Temporarily Closed Due to Roof Damage...” Slightly disappointed that the restaurant was closed, I took a moment to look down at my phone. I hadn’t noticed the waitperson come out and up to my window. After taking my order, she went on to explain that the hail storm damaged the roof of the restaurant, but the kitchen was not impacted.

“You can come around to the drive through in about 10 minutes,” she ended. They have a drive through? I hadn’t noticed that before. My husband and I usually walk into the restaurant. Every time we went in, the owner came out to greet us, chat with us a bit, and then thank us for coming in. Always with a smile. We enjoyed the fresh food and because I’m not a big crowd person, I especially appreciated the small dining area. The owner’s friendly greeting was a part of the warm experience.

After the ten minute wait, I drove around to the drive through window for the first time. The same person who took my order opened the small window as far as it could open to greet me again. She then pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, poured it like water into one hand then the other. She rubbed her hands together, making sure the alcohol coated her hands up to her wrists. After that, she picked up the credit card machine and poured a hefty amount of alcohol on that too.

I sat there witness to it all. Her meticulous and overt display of actions was mesmerizing. I watched frozen and didn’t say a word. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was saddening. It was like watching some strange performance art, but it wasn’t. 

“It’s all clean… the pen, too,” she assured me. Then she handed over the credit card machine. I reached out and took it carefully, inserted my card, and paid for the food. I handed it back to her. “I’ll be back in just a minute,” she said as she stepped away from the small window.

The window opened only moments after it closed. I looked up and the first thing I noticed was his smile. It was the owner’s big smile. He pulled himself through the small window and leaned out as if he were about to wave out to a waiting crowd from the window of a parade float. His smile was infectious. Pure joy is a good way to describe the expression on his face.

“Hello! It is good to see you again! How are you?” He asked. “Oh… hello! I’m fine, thank you,” I responded and returned a smile. “How are you?” I asked. “Good, good… good, everything is good, thank you,” he responded. His friendly smile and greeting was a part of every meal served before the pandemic, but today was slightly different. His greeting shined a bit brighter this time.

I drove home thinking about his greeting, the washing of the hands in rubbing alcohol, and the drive through window I didn’t know existed. Everything seemed slightly different. It seems our lives have slightly, but permanently shifted. All of our lives now seem altered by the catastrophic changes that continue around us.

The more I think about this small experience, the more it brings me hope. It is the hope that the good within each of us lives the ability to pull ourselves through a small window from a place that seems closed up, damaged, and shut down. It is possible to greet each other with just enough joy and kindness to move forward.
16 Comments
Stacey link
6/2/2020 11:32:24 am

I love the notion of finding a way to peek through a small window to spread joy. Kinda reminds me of how I feel when someone smiles at me with a mask on. I can tell they are smiling when I see it in their eyes.

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Marina link
6/2/2020 06:35:59 pm

I think that hope is always ready find a way out, even through a small window. It's also such a good thing to know that we can smile with our eyes.

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Terje
6/2/2020 12:04:45 pm

Hope is in this piece. A hope that kindness will win. I really believe that most people are kind. Smiles have power.

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Marina link
6/2/2020 06:46:11 pm

I have hope. Sometimes it feels like a embattled struggle to hang on to it, but I refuse to let it go. Most people are kind, some need to dig deeper for it, but it lives in most of us. Smiles really do have power.

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Megan McCormick link
6/2/2020 12:59:14 pm

I can tell Covid times have impacted me because my first thought when you mentioned the owner's smile is, "why wasn't he wearing a mask?!" haha. The sensory language in your writing made me realize how much I miss seeing smiles of strangers, acquaintances, friends, business owners, etc. I love that this experience shifted your lens a little and stuck with you but I'm mostly glad you wrote about it! Thanks for sharing.

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Marina link
6/2/2020 07:03:56 pm

I love that you were drawn to the missing mask! That's funny. It seems strange to me now when people don't wear them. I miss all of the smiling faces and gatherings, too. We are such social creatures and there is so much of us to miss. Thanks for your comment.

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Tim Gels link
6/2/2020 01:56:39 pm

Marina, the details you shared in this piece make me feel like I'm there with you. Interacting with an owner like that takes things beyond a mere customer/clerk relationship--it's a wonderful thing. Life is different now, but I believe there's enough joy and kindness (to use your words) to move ahead. Thanks for sharing this!

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Marina link
6/2/2020 07:13:23 pm

I'm so glad to hear you felt right there with me. I agree, there really is enough joy and kindness to help us move forward.

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Molly Hogan link
6/2/2020 02:53:14 pm

This is a wonderful piece and your final paragraph shines. It's so important to maintain some sense of hope and it sounds like both you and the restaurant owner have done that.

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Marina link
6/2/2020 07:21:54 pm

It is so important for us to hold on to hope, I agree. Thank you for your comment.

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Erica link
6/2/2020 04:10:21 pm

This really does have some nice, small moments of hope even with the changes to all of our lives. I enjoyed this piece and appreciate you for sharing this little moment with us.

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Marina link
6/2/2020 07:25:33 pm

I'm learning we can find ourselves in the details of our lives. I try to keep hope in those details. Thank you for your comment, Erica.

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Katina
6/2/2020 05:08:55 pm

I can see that scene happening! Your description is perfect. I’m so glad you made his day, and he made yours!

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Marina link
6/2/2020 07:27:31 pm

I don't know if I made his day, but he sure made mine something to think about. Thank you, Katina!

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Fran Haley link
6/2/2020 06:19:13 pm

Marina, your words strike such a chord - life IS altered so much, in so many ways, and it has all happened so fast. I am thinking how hope really does lie in the everyday things and places, in the smallest of gestures. And it only takes a spark of hope to make the biggest difference. I have been thinking how the greatest danger to life is a sense of hopelessness; it must vigilantly be driven away. I also want to thank you for sharing the Morrison quote ... perfectly chosen for the day. It was the very fragment I needed to finish my slice, like the last puzzle piece fitting right in place. Wellness and safety to you and all yours.

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Marina link
6/2/2020 07:43:06 pm

Thank you for this richly worded comment, Fran. "it only takes a spark of hope to make the biggest difference" I love how you described it. Hopelessness is one of the greatest dangers, I agree. We have a responsibility as human beings to keep those sparks of hope alive. It may just be what drives us into tomorrow. And it may have been fate to find that beautiful and powerful quote by Toni Morrison. I am so glad it made an impact on your post.

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