Promises

As a young girl scout I used to stand In front of the only grocery store in town peddling my wares. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I had to listen politely as some middle-aged lady droned on about how she remembered when cookies were a mere 25 cents a box. And that the boxes were bigger. And then repeated herself to each adult in the area; I spent the whole time wishing she would just shut up and buy a box of cookies and leave already. With each customer, and each repetition, I vowed anew that I would never subject the next generation of my sisters to ramblings of such magnitude.

Now, as I pass the young cookie pushers I stifle the urge to reminisce. "I'll take a box," I say instead. "Here's $4. Thanks." As I slip my box into my bag I think, "When did they hit four bucks a box?!" then, saying nothing more, I leave. And though they never know what I'm not saying, I know that if they did they would each hug me, tears streaming down faces as they thanked me for my mercy.