There were simply two boys arranging birthday presents while their families talked nearby.
I looked at Eleanor.
She was watching her grandson with the same expression I sometimes wore when I looked at Theo.
Love mixed with worry.
Pride mixed with the knowledge that we couldn’t protect our children from every difficult moment.
She met my eyes and smiled.
Then we turned back toward the boys.
I still think about that afternoon in the grocery store.
I think about the ten-dollar bill I gave Theo.
I think about the chocolate bar he was so determined to buy on his own.
I think about Eleanor sitting beside the checkout counter, convinced that she had failed her grandson because she couldn’t afford all the food he needed.
And I think about the man in the gray shirt, who entered the store impatient and left having been reminded that other people’s struggles deserved more compassion than he had shown.
