beans
“Your beans look amazing for this time of year,” I said.
The vendor smiled from behind a white utility table brimming with radishes, beans, a variety of peppers, and squash. “Thank you.” His brown eyes met my hazel.
For a few moments I considered which basket of $3.00 beans I wanted — purple or yellow? I picked up a few to inspect their size, feeling for overgrown seeds and hollow spots. A small brown-haired girl watched, eager for me to make my selection so that she could do her job of collecting the customer’s money.
“I don’t know,” I said to the child, who I estimated to be in about second grade, “Yellow or purple? Which is your favorite?”
Her eyes grew wide and she looked to the man I assumed was her father.
“Tell her you haven’t tried them yet,” he said.
She turned her brown eyes to my hazel. “I haven’t tried them yet.”
“I’ll go with a mixed basket then,” I said before handing the child three singles.
After pouring the beans from basket to plastic bag, the farmer passed them on to me… along with this little story to share.
It seems there was some being present going on in that exchange. Not the money part, but attention to eye colors, bean colors, the daughter's eagerness to engage, and freshness of the produce. I can picture in my mind's eye the modern alternate approach: talking on one's cell phone pressed to one's shoulder while aimlessly pointing to a basket and asking if a credit card is okay. I'll take a mixed basket of presence any day!