[dropcap]D[/dropcap]ear,” she said to her husband. “Would you mind getting the car while I wait here?”
Her husband was a short, white-haired man who might’ve weighed a-buck-ten, sopping wet. He nodded his head. “I don’t mind, darling, but I’ll be a while.” He pointed to the edge of the Publix parking lot. “We parked way out there.”
She sat down on the bench and laid her purse in her lap. “I’ll stay here with the groceries, you get the car, if you don’t have any objections.”
He rubbed her arthritic shoulders. “I don’t mind. Whatever you want, dear.”
The elderly couple shared a moment of polite affection. Something that struck me as quite remarkable this day in age.
“Please be careful, Harold,” she said. “Watch for traffic.”
“Honey.” He removed his crimson-colored Alabama cap. “I’ll be as safe as I can.” Then, he leaned down and pecked her on the cheek. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll return.”
And he hobbled out toward their car.
I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure what’s happened to our world. Couples don’t treat each other with this kind of politeness. Not anymore. We thumb-type on our cellphones, we use swear words like they’re Morton salt. Furthermore, when young couples are in the supermarket, you don’t find many using words like, “please,” or “thank you.”
Just then, a car swerved and laid on the horn. The old man jogged across the intersection barely dodging the erratic vehicle.
The old man held up an ugly finger and shouted.“Watch where you’re going! You @$%#ing piece of $#!+!”
Illustration by Frits Alfeldt