Sometimes the most special moments come when you least expect them. Today, I met a woman at her apartment to take her photograph. When I arrived, she had the table set with ginger scones, and also blueberry scones, in case I didn’t like ginger. There was delicious, hot coffee. She doesn’t own a car, so she walked to the local market the day before to buy cream, just for me. The thick, white liquid was displayed on the table in a beautiful, tiny serving bowl. She picked up a couple of sugar packets on the way back from the market, in case I liked sugar, which I do. She served the coffee in matching, pottery mugs, each with beauty marks from years of use. She said, in a lovely southern drawl, “I hope you don’t mind the chip. These are my most special cups, because my son made them for me.” I said, “Not at all”, then I commented on their beauty and craftsmanship, but what I thought, and should have said was, “Thank you for making me feel so special and loved today.”
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