I Pick Favorites

She looks at me, takes my hand and says, you are so dear. 

One of my favorite regulars at work is a woman who comes in to get a morning bun (read flakey, swirled cinnamon bun with no frosting) and I have quickly learned she wants the biggest one in the case. She deserves it too.

She's 92 years old, and proud of it.

Born in 1921, she doesn't look a day over 75. She's sweet, full of encouragement, and I get the biggest smile on my face when she walks in. She always wants to know how my day is going, and I'm honest with her. Her usual reply is, I don't understand why people are grumpy, what do they have to worry about? There's no time to be grumpy, and I would know, I'm 92! She smiles at me, winks, and assures me she'll be in tomorrow.