2 weeks Ago
As the days become shorter and scarves and mittens tumble from closet shelves, we cherish pockets of warmth and small glimmers of light. Holiday giving and receiving can bring brighter moments. Gifts come in many forms and I found something precious inside the doors of a small nearby market.
I have a weekly ritual of stopping into the shop on Thursdays, which is delivery day for sweet little bananas grown in Mexico. When I first frequented the shop, the small dark-haired owner behind the counter would comment rather sternly, “Only bananas, that’s it!” She would weigh them, stretch out her hand, and I dutifully paid, hoping my small purchase would not continue to irritate her. After a few months, I asked her name.
“Maria,” she answered abruptly. I decided it best not to burden her with mine. As the months continued, I always made sure I said, “Hi, Maria,” and, “Bye, Maria!” One day there was a younger man behind the counter and since it was a family-owned business I assumed it might be one of her sons.
When I asked about where his Mom might be, he explained she was taking a few days off. As we started chatting, he shared how stressful the grocery business can be and how time away softened things for her. Making friends with Maria continued to be important to me.
One day I brought her banana bread made with my little bananas. I handed the small loaf across the counter. She tilted her head and asked, “What’s this for?” I explained I just wanted to thank her for selling me so many bananas.
I think she thanked me but maybe not. One cold morning last December, she seemed unusually subdued. When I asked how her day was going she answered quietly, “My eldest son died.
” I let her know how very sorry I was, and on my next visit, I brought her a card and another loaf of bread. This time she thanked me with a hint of a smile. I often felt she didn’t know what to do with my gestures of gratitude and concern but as the months wore on, she no longer reprimanded me for only buying bananas.
One day she made my purchase that much sweeter, when she asked, “Your name?” “Priscilla,” I answered proudly carrying my sack toward the door. On a Thursday in early Spring, as I approached the shop, there was a sign on the door that read, “We will close early today and stay closed over weekend.” Her younger son was behind the counter and I politely asked why they were closing.
“My dad passed on yesterday.” Once again I offered my condolences. Soon Maria was back, looking thin and tired.
As I handed her my bananas to weigh, I said how very sorry I was to hear about her husband. I pulled my credit card from my wallet and saw a green and white Starbucks gift card nestled behind it. I reached across the counter and offered her the small gift.
“Would you buy yourself a big cup of warm tea and know it is from me?” As I turned to leave, I heard her say quietly, “Wait.” She came around the counter and held out her arms for us to hug. We held each other close.
After a few years, I had made a new friend. Often gifts that cost nothing, are worth everything. Recently I shared with Maria this written account of our friendship.
We laughed and smiled together as customers came and went — once again providing warmth on a chilly December afternoon. (This piece was printed with permission of its subject.) Priscilla Dann-Courtney may be reached at: priscillacourtney3@gmail.
com ..
