About two weeks ago, I had to go to the store in the next town over. I can't remember what for, but I know I had not yet been home for the day; I was tired, probably hungry and my feet likely hurt.
Heading to the check-out lane, I spotted an elderly man from my town, sitting alone on a bench in the store. Living in the small community we do, I had known him for quite some time, and had grown to have an appreciation for his opinionated nature, as well as come to know his softer side. But I also had come to realize there was no such thing as a short conversation with him, and all I really wanted was to be home.
"I'll catch him around town, next time."
I eyed the aisle way, analyzed the direction he was facing, and decided I could make it past without being seen. And I did.
Then I stopped, turned around and headed toward the bench.
While he waited for his wife to finish shopping, we talked about an article he had shared with me a few months ago regarding a friend of his, which lead to a conversation about another interesting person he had known. We talked for quite some time, and several minutes after the return of his wife, I went on about my evening, and he with his.
When I learned of his passing yesterday, one of the first thoughts that crossed my mind was the last time we talked. What if, on that night, I would have just kept walking? I would have gotten home 20 minutes sooner. 20 minutes. Big deal.
It served as a pretty strong reminder that "next time" isn't always there. And while sometimes our schedules simply don't warrant taking a few minutes to just stop - sometimes they do, but we chose not to.
I'm glad that night I did, and I hope to remember that whenever I have the chance.