I was blue. I had just watched the news. Wars were raging. Bombs were dropping. People dying. All God’s children were bickering over the price of rice in China in the rain. And each onslaught of horror was only interrupted by pharmaceutical commercials which all tell you exactly how (a) this drug can save your life, and (b) this causes suicidal thoughts.
So there I was, approaching the pinto bean aisle when I met her. She was five years old, about three feet tall, following her mom’s buggy. She was Chatty Cathy.
“Hi,” she said.
Her face was cheerful. Her hair was dark, and her smile was catching. She wore a pink skirt and T-shirt. And draped around her neck was a gold medal.
“I have a gold medal,” she said, brandishing the medal.
“Really?” I said.
“I got it from gymnastics. Two years ago.”
“And you’re still wearing it?”
“Yes.”
The girl’s name was Evelyn, she said. Evelyn’s face was round and full. Her brown eyes were the size of washtubs.
“I got this medal in gymnastics for doing this. Watch…”
Whereupon Evelyn demonstrated a dance position that can only be described as a cross between a ballerina’s second position and a pointing English Springer Spaniel.
“Hey, know what?” she said.
“What?”
“I get to play Mario Kart Rainbow Road.”
“What’s Mario Kart?”
“It’s a game. But I can’t play it very much because my brain is still developing and playing too many video games or being on computers makes my brain go like this…”
Evelyn then made a gesture not unlike a crazed Frankenstein’s monster who was short-circuiting in the pinto bean aisle.
“I like Mario Kart. I play it on Saturdays. The game has Mario and Luigi, they’re brothers, did you know that? I just learned that about them. All this time I didn’t know they were brothers. And Mario Kart has princesses, too. I will tell you what the princesses look like in case you see them, that way you’ll know who you’re looking at.”
“Please.”
Evelyn began counting on fingers. “First there is Princess Peach. She wears a pink dress with a blue jewel on her chest. Her hair is blond. Like this. The jewel she wears is actually more turquoise. But turquoise is blue. So is navy. There are many different blues. More than you think. Then there is Princess Rosalina who wears a turquoise dress. Remember that’s blue, like I said. And her jewel on her chest is yellow. Yellow is not blue. Yellow is just yellow. Then there is Princess Daisy, and her jewel is in the shape of a daisy. A daisy is a flower, which I’m sure you know. I can tell you about more daisies, but we don’t have that much time.”
“Story of my life.”
Evelyn and I talked for a long time amidst the pinto beans, the mac-and-cheese boxes, and canned chili. I learned a lot about her. I learned that she has a million-and-one cousins. And I learned most of their names. And I also learned that she goes to kindergarten one day per week. And that her mom’s name is Tiffany, and her baby sister’s name is Ada, but she is very shy.
Evelyn’s mother finally told Evelyn it was time to leave, and needed to wrap this conversation up.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” I said, presenting my hand. “My name is Sean.”
Evelyn took my hand in her own and shook it. “I am Evelyn Gwen Basset.”
Then we high-fived. Then we fist-bumped. Followed by a brief explosive gesture with our hands. With sound effects.
“There is a show I think you should watch,” said Evelyn. “It’s called ‘Shaun the Sheep.’ I think you will like it. It is about a sheep named Shaun who does nice and funny things for his friends to make them happy, and…”
“Evelyn,” said her mother, gently. “That’s enough. We have to go now. Tell him goodbye.”
“…And he’s funny and he’s always getting into trouble, and sometimes…”
“Evelyn,” her mother said. “We have to go now.”
I waved at my new comrade. “Bye, Evelyn.”
And as Evelyn walked backward down the aisle, following her mother’s cart, she waved back at me saying, “Bye.” When she disappeared, she was still walking backward. And still waving.
I heard a little voice say, “Bye, Sean.”
I was still smiling when I whispered, “Thank you, Evelyn.”
Thank you.