And yet, through it all, I couldn’t stop flashing back to something that happened yesterday afternoon.
The four of us (me, wife, kids) were driving back home from a weekend in Pennsylvania. We stopped in a nowhere town with a funky-cool chocolate shop. The candies were insanely expensive (they were small and Belgian and overpriced), but we bought three, just to sample. The sweets were placed in a tiny brown paper bag. We tried two, and saved the best for last.
Shortly after crossing the George Washington Bridge, the wife said, “Hand me the bag.” I gave it to her, she rolled down the window and gave it to a man who was holding a sign, asking for money. “It’s not money—it’s just chocolate,” she said. “But it tastes good.” He smiled … seemed genuinely appreciative.
That’s the end of the story. Nothing snazzy, nothing dazzling.
I’m just honored to be married to the person who gives away her chocolate.