An enchanting moment.

Two Italian ladies are standing in line.  In front of me. At the grocery store. We wait 10 minutes. To get ahead of the line. Gives me time to size up the ladies. I like ‘em both. Instinctively. One lady perhaps in her early 60s. The other. Perhaps early 30s. A brunet.  Long hair. Nice apparel. Black coat. The older lady looks well educated. Intelligent.  I speculate. Maybe she’s the mother. With her daughter or daughter-in-law. They have separate baskets. And check out separately.  The younger woman decides she wants to buy a dinner dish plate. Apparently being offered at discount. And her grocery bill is big enough to qualify her for several  plates. At the bargain price. So she runs back to fetch more.  Causing a delay in the checkout line.  The older woman seems embarrassed. Turns to me. And speaks Italian. Which I don’t understand. But I assume she’s probably apologizing for the delay. I smile. Tell her in Italian that I don’t speak Italian. That I’m an American. She speaks English.  The younger woman returns. Spies my sunglasses on the floor.  She picks ‘em up.  Hands them to me. I thank her.  In Italian. I tell the older woman in Italian that I’m a lucky guy. I elaborate. In English. I love Italy. I have an Italian true love. We connect. I can tell.  I suspect we still wonder about each other. Certainly, I do. Hours later.   Strangers. Never to meet again.  But still, I’m curious. I’d like to know more.  Are they mother and daughter?  How is it that she speaks English? Meanwhile, I’m happy. I chose the right queue to stand in today.  For an unexpected enchanting moment.  --Jim Broede