by Laura Sillerman | bio

Once upon a time, there was a sour woman who worked in an upscale bakery/coffee shop where the latte people who were in a hurry came in and growled because the sour woman growled at them.

“Yes?” she would growl when they stepped up to the counter.

“Large latte, skim,” is all they would say back.

She would cast her eyes down without acknowledging their desires and would slowly move to the big espresso machine and slowly make the hot beverage and slowly put the top on and slowly return to the counter.

“Anything else?”

“Sticky bun,” the latte person would say, or, more likely, “No-fat bran muffin.”

Money would be exchanged, a small amount of change would grudgingly be put in the tip jar, and the sour woman and the latte person would go on with their days, not one bit lighter or more enlightened for having seen one another.

Now, it came to pass that the holiday season snuck into the city where all of this happened day after day. Bright lights were strung on street-smudged brick, and a kind of shine was put on the mornings that were normally so gray.

On one of these mornings a customer went into the bakery she usually avoided (she couldn’t bear the growl of the sour woman and she didn’t drink lattes). Something on this morning was different: The woman behind the counter was smiling. No, she was more than smiling. She was grinning.

The customer was taken aback and did the only thing she could do. She grinned back.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” said the woman behind the counter, minus a growl. “May I help you?”

Still grinning, the customer gave her order. And when it came back quickly from the woman (who was still grinning, too), the customer said, “I hope you have a very good day.”

“Oh, you have a nice day too,” came the reply.

Money was exchanged, a large amount was put into the tip jar, and the woman walked out into the brightly lit morning feeling lighter than she had when she walked in and somewhat enlightened and very chastened.

I am an older person, thought the woman. I know enough to give what I hope to get. I should have been smiling at that woman behind the counter all along.

So, this is the story of a moment in a season that is usually about buying and rushing and more than a little complaining. It’s about a grin that stole the season away from its usual tempo and terms. In the end, as with most stories, it’s about what is ours to change.