I decide at 10 o'clock (a disgustingly late time for me to eat breakfast, especially considering I arose at 6:30 in the a.m.) to go and get some food at the local Panera Bread (my personal hang-out and relaxing spot to get stuff done.)
I walk briskly in the front door (as I have a mission that must be accomplished to cure the monster growing in my stomach) passing a father and son on my right sitting at a table, clearly coloring or doing some other child-like activity. I approach the counter and order my not-so-surprising typical order of a regular sized drink and a Breakfast Power Sandwich. As a matter of fact, I don't have to order it. I walk up to the cashier and the order is basically recited to me before I even get to utter a word (a creature of habit, what can I say.)
I pass the father and son duo (still coloring) a second time as I go to the room I always go to in order to set up my laptop. I walk back by them as I go and fill up my drink (I was in a real true caffeine mode, and therefore I decide to get a real drink, a soda). I walk back by them as I go sit down. I continue my routine as my buzzer goes off to indicate that it is time to go and pick up my order. I rush by them again (are you seeing a pattern) as I head back to my table where my laptop is resting. I eat my sandwich, I drink my Diet Pepsi. I need a refill. I walk by them (are you getting dizzy?) as I go and refill my drink.
Something struck me - finally! - as I walked back to my laptop. I stopped, and I could see this father and son sitting by the door at the table, coloring. I noticed something I didn't notice before. The father was bald, which isn't what struck me, as I myself suffer from the tortures of male-pattern baldness. No, what struck me was the son, coloring - he was bald. This was not a bald that is buzzed. This is not a chosen baldness. This is a bald that indicates that no hair is able to grow in. The baldness of the boy's head glistens under the soft lighting in the restaurant. No this is a different kind of baldness, this is a baldness that you can just see comes with a story.
Your head has probably already completed the story that can be told just by a shiny bald head on a (possible) eight-year-old. This is clearly associated with cancer, and my heart suddenly goes out to the little child coloring.
However, I glance back over at the father for a second time and I notice his head. This man isn't balding, I know what it looks like when hair is falling out of your head because genetics have kicked in. There is a look to that kind of baldness, this man did not have it. This man clearly had a full head of hair just begging to grow into his scalp. That is when it hit me. I started putting the pieces of this puzzle together...
This man...no, this father, has shaved his head in honor of his son who is sitting like a child on the chair (propped up on his knees) coloring in the book. And a father, who is aping his son's fashion statement (well, at least making his son believe it is just a fashion statement) and coloring right along beside him.
My heart hurt for the boy sitting in the chair, but rejoiced for the moment that I almost walked past. I was so gung-ho on making sure that my needs were satisfied, that I almost skipped this picture. I almost trailblazed right past the visual beauty that was sitting right by the front door at Panera Bread.
My life has been enriched.
I think maybe from now on I should try to walk slower.
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