Streets were open, which calmed my feeling of incursion from the city. Drinking my coffee slowly was a luxury I hadn’t had in a while that made the venture worth the commute. As time seemed to slow-down I pulled up into what looked like a residential area. Houses were cozy, welcoming, and cabin-like. Quaint little shops started to pave the sides of the road and I slowed down to embrace the details of the quaint modest homes and businesses.
Oooh! I thought as I passed a few businesses. They looked to be right up my alley and appeared to be hidden gems. I was surprised to see the amount of construction in such a small town, but it didn’t bother me. I spotted a café and went right on in. It was called the Pumpernickel, an interesting store name, which sold my senses admittedly.
As I walked into the quiet venue, I saw one man in a far corner writing. “Can I help you?” he yelled, as if there were many others in his small establishment. Sure, I said, and he walked over appearing to be a little confused as to why I had walked into the café in the first place.
I mentioned I was from the city and I would love to try some of the local baked goods in his shop. I introduced myself and discovered he was the store
owner. Glen was his name and I asked how long the place had been there. He let out a sigh and answered, “Over 23 years.”
I looked at his face and could see a sadness slowly escaping. I asked him how things were?
He raised up his face from its downward position and said, “You know, just one day at a time.”
We spoke some more about his business and all the offer of live performances from the neighborhood kids, vegan gelato, and eye- catching cinnamon rolls. I could see the joy that started to emit from his eyes as he showed me the art and guitar collection that decorated the room of the café.
Eying the cinnamon rolls I knew I didn’t need one more sweet thing in my diet, but I said, “ Hey Glen I’d love to have a cinnamon roll.”
As I looked around, I noticed no other customers coming or going. The feeling of quite possibly being his only customer of the day consumed my every thought. I was heart broken for the loss of his thriving business during the pandemic and thanked God my mask was hiding my frown of helplessness. I let my eyes continue to smile as he handed me the cinnamon roll. I asked what I owed him, and he said, “Not a thing.” Holding back tears I added, “Hey.. thanks Glen. I will come visit you and the shop very soon! “I walked out, took a bite of the homemade cinnamon roll, and decided it was the best one I ever had. Heartfelt genuine kindness was something we both needed that day. Having little Idea of what I would find out in Michigan felt really wonderful knowing someone else got the same enjoyable feeling back.