Monday morning rolled around quickly. It followed a hot and sticky weekend for Adelaide, but the cool breeze had come and brought some temporary relief. Getting up early that Monday I drove down to Brighton beach for an early morning walk with a friend. She had recently returned from many years travelling and shortly was to jet off to America – potentially for a very long time. We had actually met in America around nine years ago and had stayed in touch. She was the reason I had come to Adelaide in the first place; it was she who introduced me to my husband, and she played a big and encouraging roll in my faith. An amazing woman – and one I didn’t want to miss spending extra time with.
So there we were nice and early and on the beach by half-seven. The wind had picked up and it was far from warm, with clouds dramatically and beautifully rumbling overhead. Nonetheless, the water was surprisingly warm as we walked along the shoreline catching up on two years of adventures. Despite the overcast weather, the beach was on the busy side with many dog walkers starting off their mornings with sandy and wet canines who bounded their way in and out of waves chasing elusive tennis balls. After an hour we had returned back to our starting point and saying our goodbyes I turned my thoughts towards breakfast.
Brighton Road, HoveView on Map
As I drove home, passing along Brighton road, my eyes fell on a subtle bakery sign. My stomach rumbled in agreeance as I pulled into the parking lot. The bakery shared the lot with a Foodland, cafe, post office, hairdresser and I’m sure many other things, but overall none of them stood out. There were few customers around for any of the businesses and none for the bakery. As I walked in a little bell tinkled announcing my arrival, but I was greeted by no one. I waited for a few minutes, hearing voices in the back, but no one came around. “Perhaps they didn’t hear me,” I thought, “or perhaps they are closed”. I opened the door to leave, tinkling the bell again, and heard a shuffling come around the corner. Perhaps the most delightful, elegant and petite little old lady appeared from the back. Stooped by age and with a large tray of donuts in both hands, she looked as if a whiff of wind could have toppled her over. Placing the donuts in the shelves she turned her attention to me and although it took several times repeating, I eventually ended up with two large donuts in bags. She chatted as she served me, her white hair, floral outfit and motherly interest reminding me of my own grandmother. Spying a picture of my new puppy on my phone she enquired after him – declaring him one handsome dog (with which I do not disagree). We talked on this and that as she worked the card machine with surprising ease and with a big smile she sent me on my way. I walked out the door feeling warm, fuzzy and at home. Amazing how such small and pleasant interactions can really make your day.
