Grandma didn’t look up from her task of wiping down the counter. “Life has a funny way of serving up what we deserve,” she said, her tone as even and calm as always.
“Sometimes it’s a slice of humble pie. ” I snorted at that, watching as the woman tried and failed to casually stroll past the rival pizza place.
She was walking so fast it was almost a jog, but there was no escaping the fact that she still had that telltale pizza box in her hands.
The manager, not one to miss a good opportunity, called after her, his voice loud enough that I could hear it through the glass.
“Hey, ma’am, don’t you want to return the pizza you snatched off our counter earlier? Your order is still in the warmer.
” That sent another round of laughter through both shops and the woman, if it were even possible, turned an even brighter shade of red. She sped up, practically sprinting now, but the damage was done.
She wasn’t going to live this down anytime soon.
As the laughter finally started to die down, I untied my apron and hung it on the hook by the door.
The day was over, and what a way to end it. “Another day, another lesson,” Grandma said softly, coming to stand beside me.
She gave my arm a gentle pat, her eyes twinkling with that timeless wisdom she always seemed to have. “Remember, Francine, it’s not about what happens to you, it’s about how you handle it.
” She was right, as always.
Life was full of these little moments, these small slices of karma that reminded us of our place in the world.
And today, it had been served up extra hot.
