There was something about this morning. Maybe it was the fog, or the dark skies. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep finally catching up with me. All I know is that as soon as that alarm rang, I wish that it didn’t. I felt grumpy even before consciousness. Actually, grumpy is the PG word for what I felt.
And as it usually is on such mornings, things tend to go wrong. Buses come late and are therefore crowded to overflow with other “grumpy” commuters. A woman tells you not to sit with them even though the bus is chock full because they are saving a seat for “their friend”. New Yorkers frustrated with the situation frown and complain along the way. In general, people are a little less “loveable”. At least that’s how it feels when you wake up on mornings like this.
But then you go to the coffee shop where you have been each morning for the last 2 weeks. And the cashier that is always there and always smiling recognizes you, and he pleasantly jokes with you. He laughs and is kind, as he is with everyone each morning that you have been here. He is the kind of joyful where you know that he means it, he’s not just doing it “for good business”. So that joy and kindness start to rub off.
I realize I don’t even know this joy giver’s name yet. “Hi, I’m Jess,” I say with hand extended. “Hi Jess, I’m Donny,” the cashier replies with a grin as he takes my hand. “Donny,” I say, “Thanks for making my morning.” And I mean it too.
I walk out of the coffee shop on my way to work and wait for the green light at the curb. I look over at the lady next to me. “Nice morning isn’t it?” I say with a smile.
