Dirty Foreheads

As you may know, yesterday was Ash Wednesday for many Christians. I’m not an “obsessive.” But I do try to observe reasonably.

After getting ashes at church, I stopped in at a small supermarket. At the check-out, the woman cashier – in her late teens to early twenties, I guess – chatted with me briefly. Suddenly, she looked at me a bit strangely.

As she handed me my change, she leaned in to me and whispered sweetly and discretely, “Ya have some dirt on ya forehead. Just thought ya should know.”

You probably sense where this is going. I’d forgotten, so it took me a moment to react. When I realized, I didn’t attempt to explain; I just smiled and replied softly as I walked out, “Thank you very much.”

A selfie, post-ashes, at my desk. [Photo by me obviously, 2015.]
A selfie, post-ashes, at my desk. [Photo by me obviously, 2015.]

Given the store is within walking distance of that church, I wonder if she ran into anyone else yesterday with “a dirty forehead?”

If not, maybe she told her co-workers, “There was this American bloke that came in with dirt on his forehead. When I told him, he didn’t do anything. He just said, ‘Thanks.’ Americans can be a right odd lot.” ๐Ÿ˜‰

Hope you’re having a good Thursday, wherever you are in the world. ๐Ÿ™‚

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Author: โ€œConventions: The Garden At Paris,โ€ โ€œPassports,โ€ โ€œFrontiers,โ€ and โ€œDistances.โ€ British Airways frequent flier. Lover of the Catskill Mountains...and the 1700s. New novel of 1797-1805, "Tomorrow The Grace," due out in 2019.