A few years ago, I loose track of time - it could have been ten years, Donna, Kim, and I went to lunch at one of my favorite places in Kansas City ~ The Webster House. I've been going there for well over 17 years. It has morphed over the years from a mostly antique and home accent mecca that served a fabulous "Ladies Lunch" to The place to go before or after a performance at the Kauffman Center. When we went, it was still the fabulous Ladies Lunch place. (Any southern woman knows exactly what I mean be that definition too.)
We were there to celebrate one of our birthdays. While we were sitting there chatting and laughing, I noticed three little old ladies sitting a couple of tables away. They were almost a duplicate of our table. They were chatting and laughing and having a wonderful time. I couldn't keep my eyes off of them. I had already mentally determined which one was the older version of each of us. I finally had to share with my friends what was going on. Now we were ALL mesmerized by the trio of "old us".
We continued to enjoy our birthday luncheon, but every so often we caught each other sneaking a quick glance at the other table. When our waiter arrived with the bill, I requested the bill for the other "girls" as well. After all they had truly added to our birthday celebration and I alway get a warm feeling whenever I can do a random act of kindness. I requested that he not tell them who had bought their lunch until after we had left. Well, leave it to a man to NOT do as requested. He spilled the beans. On our way out, the "girls" stopped us and thanked us profusely for treating them. They then admitted that throughout their lunch, they were enjoying watching us. We reminded them of themselves years earlier.
When we asked if they were there was a special occasion, they shared that in fact they were celebrating a birthday. The six of us erupted in laughter. We then stood there for about twenty minutes chatting like we had just met up with cousins we hadn't seen in years and years. Not a single one of us worried about what the other diners might think of our raucous discussion (my grandmother would have fainted in embarrassment of our behavior). The leader of their group requested that I give her my name and address, and of course I complied. It was about a week later that I received my first letter. She filled me in with deeper detail of the "girls". The youngest was 79 and the oldest was the one celebrating her birthday at the tender age of 90. She thanked us profusely for our kindness and requested I drop her a note now and then.
All three of them have now gone on to a better place, but I shall keep all their memories with me.
Remember, you never know what side of the observation table you're sitting.
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