Encounter In The Parking Lot
I tend to be a talker, and a lot of times when I go different places, I wind up talking to people, sometimes without even fully realizing that I am doing it. Yesterday, I went to the grocery store with the kids, and when I came out there was a car parked right next to mine, and in it was this nice elderly man with a beard. The weather was really nice, and he was sitting in a silver car with the window fully open and I later discovered that he was sitting and reading a book. When we came out I was pushing the cart, two kids in tow, and he began to comment about the kids. We talked back and forth. He was from NJ and I was from NY, he heard my accent and commented on where I was from. He said that he was seeing a woman from there. Anyway we had a very nice, friendly conversation and through this I found out his name was Bucky. It even said it on his license plates. I enjoyed my conversation with the kind, lighthearted older gentleman, and as usual was running around and didn’t really stop to think.
There were some things about this kind old guy that really didn’t add up. He claimed to be from the area, but when I mentioned a place that he should know well, he didn’t know it. He also made mention of the fact that the place he was living in was not in good shape and that he would need to sell it. Well, as I drove, I really thought about Bucky. He was sitting in an okay car, reading a book, seemingly waiting on someone, but never really mentioned why he was just sitting in the parking lot. Then I also realized that he had several clothing items hanging across the back seat of his car, but one was a cotton tee shirt and actually had stains on it. You don’t hang and item that is made of cotton and stained I thought. He had a few empty coffee cups in the front seat, the cardboard ones like you would get when traveling, yet they were all from the same place. It didn’t really all add up. He seemed nice and clean, his car was in relatively good shape, and he was driving around with personalized license plates, yet somehow as I drove home I couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky was perhaps homeless or at the very least in need of some assistance. I consider myself to be a pretty good judge of people and this man seemed to me to be all there mentally and not really posing a threat. Somehow, though I missed some of the signs that perhaps he was in need of assistance.
I pride myself at being a person who likes to help others, yet the whole way home, and still a day later this chance meeting is haunting me. Who was the older man I met in the parking lot that day? Did I miss an opportunity to help him or was this just a fleeting conversation? I assure you I will be on the lookout for my new friend, and if by chance there is a next meeting, I will try to be more astute about putting the pieces together and asking more questions.
