Tuesday at 10:30

Among the stay at home moms and the elderly , there’s a few stragglers from the weekend crowd. They are easily distinguished by shocked look on their face as they gaze around our nearly empty store.

He was no different as he came barreling in the sliding glass doors. He rubbed the rain from his eyes and shook a bit as he placed his umbrella in the stand.

“The devil seems to be beating his wife again”, he said in a drawl that would make anyone long for summer nights and sweet ice tea.

“Hey, at least he ain’t beating you” I say and he gives a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Southern too huh? what’s brought you to the middle of nowhere Montana?”.

“I’m on a quest to build the best snowman and I heard Montana has the best snow. You ?” I said with a wink.

His gaze lowered just below my eyes as he said “my son”

I turned around in order began to straighten and stock the shelves behind me again. “How old ?”

“20, today actually. Caden loves trains. Always wanted to work on one” he trails off and pulls out his wallet. There’s a little boy no more than 15 looking back at me in swimtrunks on the lake. He takes out the photo and behind it is nearly 15 more.

I sit there and listen to him tell me of Caden early arrival here. About how he learned how to fish out south and could hunt with the best of them. I heard about his deep love for his family even through his parents divorce. The hours ticked by and only when he got to the last photo did his smile begin to dim again.

“He died that day. He got caught on something in the lake and drown”. The puzzle pieces click. The story made the news almost 5 years ago. It was so sad and his dad tried to save him but almost died himself.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have turned the store sign to close and led him sit on that bench. I definitely shouldn’t have gotten him the cake from the back and lit the candle but I did.

“Happy birthday to you , happy birthday dear Caden …” I start to sing in almost a whisper but he joins in. With every note, we send it up to that dear boy who loved trains and had so much life to live.

Tears fill our eyes and roll down our cheeks as we sit in silence. I hug him close for a moment and then slice the cake. The silence remains as we eat it. Eventually when the cake and the moment is long gone , he gets up to gather his belongings.

“Same time year ” I call out as he gets his umbrella open.

“Definitely” His body was more relaxed and slowed as he went back through the doors. The furrow in his brow seemed to ease and I just smiled at him.

Sometimes you just need those special Tuesday’s at 10:30am