The Bad Day

I’m standing in the condiment aisle debating peppercorn versus regular Ranch when she peeks her head around my shopping cart and peers at my outfit.

“Is that a skirt or a dress?” she asks, lowering her half-glasses down the bridge of her nose.

I don’t expect the question, so it takes me a couple of seconds to realize that she’s asking about my skirt, a pink and blue striped A-Line with a satin ribbon belt -- a hand-me-down from my friend Viviana, who knows my Shop Not wardrobe is feeling a little stale these days.

“Oh! It’s a skirt!” I say, smoothing the front with two hands, still startled by the peering.

“Well I just have to tell you,” she says, readjusting her glasses, “that skirt is the happiest thing I’ve seen all day.”

“Thank you!” I call after her as she pushes her cart toward the frozen foods. “And it’s a hand-me-down!” I feel compelled to tell her.

“Even better!” she calls back over her shoulder.

And I float through the rest of my shopping light like a petal on a fragrant breeze, delighted that my hand-me-down pastel-striped skirt from Old Navy could bring someone such joy.

Later I repeat the story at the dinner table. Noah looks up from stir-fry tofu, stops chewing.

“Wow,” he says, “she must have had a pretty bad day.”

And we all laugh, because we think he may be right.