Ten Minute Chocolate Connection

Here I am outside Starbucks. I have fresh decaf loaded with cream, a borrowed copy of Bird by Bird By Anne Lamott, a 3.5oz bar of “Organic & fairly traded chocolate caramel crunch *with sea salt*” and my laptop.
This is my out of the house, bask in the autumn sunshine time to read and write today. When I sit down, I have exactly forty nine minutes available.
As I open my book, a couple of women climb into their cute red truck parked a few feet away from where I’m perched on a sturdy wicker chair. In the usual fashion, the driver turns the key, expecting the usual thing to happen. It doesn’t. Instead, her truck whinnies and whines, coughs and gives a soft moan before she turns the key back toward herself.
I look up at them over my book, squinting a bit due to the bright light of early evening sun glinting off the smooth red finish of their struggling vehicle.
I turn my attention back to “Bird by Bird.” I nod internally, laugh out loud and wonder if I should be enjoying my book so much when fellow human beings are experiencing a frustrating moment so near by, turning the key periodically to see if something might shift just so, just so they won’t have to call a tow truck and deal with all that.
I have an idea then, but continue to feel guilty as I finish reading chapter two.
When I am done, there they still sit.
I look over at the truck in order to summon a bit of courage, reach down into the front small square zipper compartment of my old green back pack and pull out my version of gold.
Up from my seat, I walk over to the driver window, extend my newly opened bar of amazing chocolate (see above) and say something like, “I have no words of wisdom but I came to offer you chocolate as it may help while you wait.” The driver declines but smiles in appreciation.
“My baby, this truck, has never given me a single problem. We haven’t driven her much lately because we’ve been driving our newer car. Maybe she’s gummed up…even though I just drove her 50 miles today. Too bad our mechanic’s gone home for the night.” This report is given in a tone of amused resignation.
When our brief conversation ends, I walk back to my wobbly round table.
Key turns one more time, familiar whine and whinny is heard…and then…..Little Red starts! From the driver’s seat I hear an exclamation of triumph.
“Cool! Maybe she wanted, um…chocolate?” I suggest, trying to be funny.
“I think she wanted the kindness of a stranger.” Says the driver, flashing a sweet smile. Then off they go.
Maybe both. Good chocolate can go a long way toward making our world a delightful place to keep on keepin’ on.
When I finished the first draft of this story, as I was packing to leave the cafe, I summoned my courage again, looked up at two college students I would normally ignore because they look fancy and probably think I’m dressed funny (oy, the tangled imagination that keeps people apart!) and offered them each a piece of chocolate while making some comical remark about overlooking them when I was handing out treats earlier. They enthusiastically accepted.
And the potentially awkward space between strangers shrinks again.