dear stranger sitting at a diner...

I was sitting at a bar in a diner reminiscent of the 60s enjoying an after-work drink when the brightest mango-orange and turquoise soccer polo caught my attention. What was even more impressive was the matching turquoise turban that adorned your head, which immediately created the image of how cool it would be to have a matching turban for every outfit whenever you went out.

You were an older man, probably approaching your 60-65th year. But beyond what I could see from the colors you wore or the wrinkles on your forehead and cheeks, I could tell you were a happy man. And before you opened your mouth, I could tell you were celebrating. Something about today made this day different than every other day for you. What was it? And why in this diner?

I minded my own business, senselessly watching ESPN repeat the same highlights from last night's Rams vs Cardinals game... I don't even watch football.

Eagerly you waived your weathered hand to get the waitresses attention. She walked over, and you asked, "Do you serve ice cream sodas here?". "What was that?" she responded, not quite making out your thick accent over the televisions. "Do you serve ice cream sodas?". Understanding the second time she happily answered yes. And with a smile that shown through your long salt and pepper mustache you said, "Then I'll have one large ice cream soda please!".

It was December 4th and it must have been 55 degrees with a wind chill at this point in the evening. "Nice night for some ice cream", I thought sarcastically.

When the waitress returned with his order, he asked her, "Do you know why I ordered this even though it is cold tonight?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Today is the 25th anniversary of my coming to the United States. I'm originally from India, and when I arrived by boat to New York, the first thing I ate on American soil was an ice cream soda. This reminds me of that day. And for the past 25 years I have had an ice cream soda on this day."

I laughed to myself and my thoughts. Not because this seemed like a ridiculous concept, but because something as simple and perishable as a scoop of ice cream in a glass of soda was to this man a trophy resembling his new life.

I subtly observed as you took spoonful after spoonful of your trophy. Your eyes filled with accomplishment and a smile reminding of a simple innocence. Like that of a child who spins in circles until they fall over out of dizziness purely for the sake of wanting to know what it feels like. You seemed very much at peace, and what were minutes ago just wrinkles on your face and hands became records of your life. If each fold in your skin was a book, I would have wanted to read them all.

It seemed like a good night for an ice cream float…