Pull over for the hot dog
by Kelli Bowen
Hubby and I went to the “big city” for some supplies and groceries. It was evening by the time we were heading back home, and it dawned on us that neither of us had eaten since breakfast.
I wanted to grab some kind of dinner. Hubby wasn’t too enthusiastic about this idea. We had one stop left: the grocery store on the edge of town, so I thought, I’ll just grab something from the deli and call it a night.
As we pulled into the parking lot, Hubby noticed “the shack is open.” Outside the grocery store, there’s a little shack with a grill out back where Boy Scouts or some other group fundraises by selling hot dogs, or something similar: $5, it said on the sign. I didn’t have any cash, so we went inside for coffees instead.
We checked off our list, and then some, and as we pulled out of the parking lot, I said, "Oh yeah, were we going to get a hotdog?” Hubby said he had cash, so pull back in if I want one.
I pulled in, and as we walked up, I recognized the person standing in line for a hot dog. I had graduated high school with him a couple decades ago. Then I looked inside the shack and his parents, and daughter, were working the shack. His mom had been my English teacher, and one of my favorite teachers in school, and I hadn’t seen her for at least two decades.
We chatted briefly and discussed my return to the hometown area. Then Hubby and I, with our hotdogs, hopped into our car, traveling back toward home.
Had we not decided to swing back into the parking lot at the last minute, I would have missed the opportunity to see one of my favorite teachers and childhood friends.
What does this mean? We aimlessly wander through life, missing opportunities to connect when solely focused on checking off life’s checklist? Maybe. We miss 100% of opportunities to see friends when we choose to eat in our own homes? Perhaps. Either way. I think this is definitive proof that you should ALWAYS pull over for the hot dog.
Kelli, a North Dakota girl through and through, has made her home from the eastern prairies to the western badlands with her supportive Hubby, two daughters, and ever-growing menagerie accompanying her along the way.