Last weekend, Jason and I made our first grocery run of the grilling season.
78 degrees. No humidity. The kind of early spring day that makes you forget you’re still technically living out of a suitcase in an Airbnb. We grabbed burger stuff — meat, cheese, buns — and then wandered over to the ice cream case, because of course we did.
Jason had forgotten his reading glasses, so I stood there reading him descriptions of nearly every Ben & Jerry’s flavor in the case. Half Baked. Americone Dream. Phish Food. Gimme S’More! We debated. We deliberated. We were completely, blissfully in our own world.
When we finally made our selections and turned to leave, I noticed him.
A man. Quietly standing a few cases down from us. Waiting — with zero impatience — for us to finish our very important ice cream summit.
We fell over ourselves apologizing. “Sorry, man! We had no idea you were there!”
He waved it off like it was nothing. And here’s the thing — he meant it. You can tell the difference between someone being polite and someone being sincere. This was sincere.
A few minutes later, we followed him through the parking lot and realized he was parked right next to us. Jason asked what flavors he’d gotten.
“Cherry Garcia for my wife,” he said, “and that cheesecake swirl one I’d never seen before.”
We made small talk about how perfect a day it was for grilling and ice cream. And then we went our separate ways.
I’ve been thinking about that man all week.
Not because it was a dramatic moment. It wasn’t. It was a completely ordinary Sunday afternoon grocery run.
But I keep coming back to what he didn’t do. He didn’t huff. He didn’t inch forward into our space. He didn’t make a pointed comment about people blocking the aisle. He just… waited. Patiently. Like it was fine. Because apparently, it was.
And I’ve been sitting with this question all week: what does that say?
Does it say that people are kind here in Morgantown? I think they are — genuinely. But I also think it says something about what I just left.
In Bonney Lake, Washington, grocery stores felt like a contact sport. Everyone rushed. Everyone had somewhere more important to be. And I’ll be honest — I became that person too. “Excuse me, just need to grab something really quickly.” Navigating carts like an obstacle course. Treating every errand like something to survive rather than something to just… do.
I didn’t realize how much that environment had gotten into me until I was standing in a parking lot in Morgantown, genuinely moved by a man who was just nice about ice cream.
Kindness is contagious. But so is its opposite.
I’m glad to be somewhere that’s reminding me of that. And I’m glad the Ben & Jerry’s guy got his wife’s favorite, Cherry Garcia.
