The Hotdog Stand

Yesterday Doug and I went to a hotdog stand.  It was one of those (blessed) first sun-in-my-face days I look forward to each spring.  As we ordered, I noticed the man standing above us staring down, his eyes, smile, and how we had a good belly laugh when, confused, I ordered a 10” foot long!  As Doug and I sat at the picnic table, I thought about how hotdogs probably aren’t so good for you.  But, the sun was warm on my face and even time seemed to be still as I just enjoyed this man with whom I’ve been sitting for over thirty years.  I found myself drenched in the sensations of pebbled rocks under my feet and the cool, rough, yet sturdy, brown bench and table that had graciously agreed to provide support for our delectable feast.  And, looking up, I giggled to find myself in a front row seat, watching the sun dance with leaves and as it played hide-in-seek with the clouds.  I thought about sauerkraut and how it used to be cabbage and wondered about the hands that kneaded the homemade buns and squeezed the lemons for our lemonade.

Mostly, later, I remembered feeling so gifted, overcome with that-which-was-right-before-me, that I forgot to even think or reflect on it.  Just too in it.  Who’d a thought?  After years of looking to the great wonders of the world, it was all there, the Beloved just waiting to play, at the hotdog stand.