My day at the Department of Motor Vehicles for three hours wasn’t a DOSE OF HAPPY.

Or was it?

I sat down in the back row to fill out my form, sigh somewhat heavily with the other wait-ers, and did not notice him.

A man of East Indian descent just at my left.

I didn’t notice him the same way I don’t notice others sometimes.  I just didn’t look.

The girl with beautiful long braids came up the aisle and stood in front of the man and immediately put her hand on his half-bald head  ……   and left it there for a couple of minutes.    This gesture immediately caught my attention and I turned my head up quickly.  And I smiled.

She was a beautiful little girl.  (Well, she was little to me.)  She might have been there to renew her driver’s license or maybe to get her very first one.

That gesture.  That’s what me smile.  Something so simple so pure and natural to them, but foreign to me.

It may have been done a million times in their life but not in mine.  We’re just not put-our-hand-on-someone-else’s-head people.

She made me smile, this small girl.  That, and her Daddy’s very bald head.

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