I'LL REMEMBER YOU

 4348

I drove up to Dollar Tree this morning, as I needed to pick up some greeting cards. (Just prior to each new month, I check my computer files for all my family, and friends who have upcoming birthdays, and anniversaries).

Having finished shopping, including a couple of unplanned purchases, (such as cheesecake and paper plates), I took my place in a long line preparing to check out. Just then, another cashier stepped behind another checkout lane, and announced it was open.

With this, a young man, apparently Filipino or Indonesian, encouraged me to go first, and the two of us took our places in that particular checkout lane.

As the cashier began to scan my greeting cards, and other items, I turned to the young fella, and said,

"So, you let the old guy go first."

Of course, he smiled.

I continued.

"You know, one day you'll be as old as me, and I'll be long gone."

And with this, the young stranger said something which was so much like the sort of thing I have been known to say in similar circumstances.

"Well, when I reach your age, I'll remember this day."

You would have to know me, but his unexpected assurance, (as John Wesley might have said), "warmed my heart."

(Yeah, it did)

I'm a big advocate of leaving something behind, whether it be ancestry resources, or family photos, or something a bit more intangible, such as kind words, or the spiritual impact we exercise on another human being.

And, of course, my momentary friend's words indicated that I had unwittingly left one more thing behind; (his memory of our interaction in the checkout lane at Dollar Tree in January of 2025). And, in essence, he had given me the gift of being remembered, and living on, as it were, long past my mortal homegoing.

And now, I thanked the young man.

"I appreciate your kind words. They mean so much to me."

(and)

"I'm Bill. Remember old Bill."

(and)

"What's your name?"

He spoke for the final time.

"I'm Lee."

As the cashier handed me the bag containing my purchases, I smiled, and said,

"Thank you, Lee. Thank you so much."

I'm doubtful I will ever see my young friend again, but I am confident he will remember our momentary interaction; long after I have gone on to my reward.

by Bill McDonald, PhD