Never Forget the Cafeteria Boy

The Mohawk hairstyle is the first thing I notice about the boy in the cafeteria. His hairstyle is three inches tall and extends from his blonde eyebrows to the fuzzy nape of his neck. With his soft wavy ash blonde hair and dark brown tips, the hairdo suits him.

Brown and wide open, his eyes glint with humor. The smile of this ten-year-old boy is dimple-to-dimple, bright and beautiful.

I fall in love with this young man as I would a grandchild. He is adorable.

We met at the local warehouse cafeteria as I held a greasy cheesy slice of pizza. Looking around for a table, I saw one in the corner. The boy and I arrived at the same white vinyl table at nearly the same moment.

He and I look at each without worries. In seconds, we sense a common competitive streak.

I believe he sees a trustworthy grown-up who feels no anger towards this serendipitous situation. Peering at each other, again, we see the humor and grin.

Our initial eye-to-eye contact takes seconds. We are kindred spirits without an age barrier sharing a forever moment.

Short seconds later, I take a risk. I raise my fists in an old-fashioned boxing style. After all, I am somewhat old-fashioned.

Without hesitation, the boy in the cafeteria raises his arms and hands with the perfect karate block and parry stance, and that smile.

The interaction takes a few more seconds. Within that moment of fun and camaraderie, I know the table is his. I surrender graciously and ask, “How many are in your group?”

His reply is puckish yet respectful. Raising a handful of fingers, he says, “Five.”

That is it. All is lost. With a warm feeling toward him, I say, “Okay, young man, you win.” I walk away from the white vinyl table waving a wiggly finger good-bye.

He waves back. Three seconds later, he is pointing with enthusiasm towards a vacant table in the middle of the room. “Hey lady, there’s a table for ya!” he says with enthusiasm.

I love him for that enthusiasm. I return a thumbs up.

The ten-year-old, whose name I may never know, rewards me with a vibrant smile that only an innocent young man can share with a grown up. He is happy.

My steps are lighter. My shoulders lose their slouch. My day is more carefree. The boy is my gift. I am happy.

I will never forget the cafeteria boy.