Yesterday I dropped my son off at his math tutor’s house, as I do on most Saturdays, and continued up the road to the market for a cup of coffee.
The Middle Eastern man who owns the shop frequently chats about family, the weather and local gossip with his customers, myself included. This time, he was bantering with a heavy-set black man as I approached to pay for my cup.
The man finished his purchase of a few phone cards, and then paused. He had one last thing to say. “Have a happy Father’s Day,” he said to the shopkeeper.
“You have a happy Father’s Day, too,” the Middle Eastern man replied. And then he turned to me. “And you have a happy Father’s Day, too.”
“Happy Father’s Day to you, too,” I said.
“You have a Happy Father’s Day,” the black man said to me.
“And you have a Happy Father’s Day, too,” I said to him.
We stood there for a moment, bonding in silence over the good fortune we share, having somehow lucked into enjoying the ultimate privilege life has to offer.