For once it wasn't the onions

I cry at work at least twice a week.

It's true. I have the most sensitive eyes. I really can't cut onions without crying. Sometimes even if one of the other girls is cutting onions, I cry. It's that ridiculous. But not this time.

Tonight's episode was because I served a hamburger to a joyful senior, two nights in a row. To take a step back you should know that we serve hundreds of people each week, perhaps even more than a thousand. Most are hungry and simply busy with their lives. We do a quick delicious take out meal, and they come and go without much fanfare. Very few people strike a chord with me in our brief conversations or time together.

However, yesterday, a smiling man of about 80 had my attention. He was ordering a hamburger at 7pm. He was bright and cheerful.... but joyful is simply the best word to describe him. He told me he hadn't had his dinner yet and was just picking up something for himself as he was on his way to sit with his wife at the care home. I asked if I could make anything for his wife. "Oh no, but thank you'' he replied stating that she'd eaten much earlier and he simply likes to sit with her in the evenings. But he told me I could cut the burger in half "just incase she wants a bite."

I thought his evening plans were lovely and his manner and grace with which he carried himself made me think that he was a perfect gentleman and, obviously, a loving husband. I thought that's where our story would end, but he came back again the next night. (Today)

He ordered the same, but added a side dish. He made a point of telling me that his wife did indeed try a bite and thought it was delicious! So he thought he'd best get another.

This made me pleased as punch and I set about to make another burger as best I could.  Prepared fresh, our burgers take about 12 minutes. He noted enthusiastically that he would just wait in the car, the Blue Jay's game was in the 16th inning and he was eager to hear how it ended. But he'd pop back into the restaurant in 12 minutes.

When the meal was ready I trotted out to the parking lot to find my new friend. He bubbled over thanking me for the "delivery service" and told me the game was in the bottom of the 17th inning. But once again the thing that struck me was his joy.  He expresses joy in the littlest of things, but with grand enthusiasm.

On my way back into the restaurant I thought about what rays of pure sunshine he must bring to his wife at the care home and everyone who resides there. I thought of how his devotion and sunny outlook on life are so rare. And that's when the tears hit. Not an onion in sight.