Vibrance

I am unloading my re-usable bag onto the conveyor belt at Publix, and I can feel him watching me. I am used to this- people inevitably comment on how much stuff I fit into these bags, usually in a disgruntled tone (from which I take to mean they'd gotten in line behind me because they'd thought I only had one or two items). I brace myself for the expected observation-

"Wow, you sure can fit a lot of stuff in there, can't you?"

"Yup," I say, relieved that he sounds more genuinely amused than annoyed. "I sure can!"

"The colors in your dress are just perfect for you," he continues, motioning to my swingin' 60's-revival. (he is totally right, by the way)

"Thanks," I say with a bright smile. "I thought it was nice and spring-y. I just got it the other day, so I thought I would wear it in honor of the season- except then it wasn't as warm as I was hoping... so I paired it with tights and called it good!" (It's possible I tend to over-share with strangers.)(And everyone.)

"Well it looks fantastic!"

"Glad to hear it," It's possible I am a bit dismissive in my tone- I have an ill husband at home, and no time for the flirtations of middle-aged men. We stand in semi-awkward silence as the man in front of us fumbles for approximately five coupons for every two items. The cashier then must file said coupons before she can move on to the next customer. I find myself singing along with the overhead music,

"Love don't come easy... it's a game of give and take..."

"Well, at least we have good music while we wait," he ventures. I notice the wedding band on his finger and tell myself to quit being so conceited about his intentions. Instead I give him a bigger smile.

"Happy spring music!" I consider the lyrics for a split second before adding, "Well, it sounds happy, anyway, even tho' the subject kind of isn't..." He laughs, and the cashier finally begins to scan my items.

"It'd dancing music!" he announces. "I bet Dawnie will dance with me!" I glance at the cashier's name-tag (and, I must add, take a moment to admire her perfect ringlet-fro held back by a wide gold scarf) and sure enough- her name is Dawn. Everything tumbles into place for me as she grins and says,

"Any time, any place!"

Oh, he's one of those people- people like my mom who make friends readily, everywhere and anywhere. He wasn't hitting on me in the slightest- he was just being friendly, like Mom always taught us to be.

"Isn't her dress beautiful?" He asks Dawn.

"Sure is," she says- "Real vibrant!" Our chatter continues until I pay and wish them both a good afternoon.

I walk out to the car and I'm wondering at what point, exactly, I became so suspicious of everyone around me. I didn't used to be- in fact, I was regularly accused of being naive to the point of stupid regarding the intentions of men. So how did I go from that to this woman who can't hear a compliment to her outfit without narrowing her eyes and thinking, "Predator"?

I don't know- but I resolve to myself to remember the fellow in line, to remember my Mom- and to try to get back to that girl who is open and friendly and expects only the best.