I had a craving for Taco Bell the other day for some odd reason. So, today I satisfied that craving at lunch. I walked up to the counter to order what I always get when I go to Taco Bell, nacho supreme and a soft taco supreme. A sweet old lady who had to be at least 60 with a name tag that read “Kelly” told me sweetly that she hadn’t seen me in a while. I smiled at her and ordered my lunch with no response because I had never step foot inside this Taco Bell before today but couldn’t bring myself to tell her otherwise. My thoughts were more on why was this dear sweet old lady working at Taco Bell than what was on the purple menu above me head. She handed me my changed with the her soft and wrinkled hands. She told me that my number was 90. Walking to fill my cup with sweet tea, I see two elderly women having lunch. I guess they have to be friends of Kelly because they just didn’t fit among the mostly college age folks eating lunch to music I never in a millions years picture them listening to. I walked over to a private booth of my own to read my book while I waited for my food to be ready. As much as I have been enjoying the book, I used it more for my cover of not being caught watching Kelly. Her name didn’t fit her, she looked more like a Rose or a Lily to me. Kellys are what Id put with a sorority girl before a tender elderly women. Kelly walked around the counter and sat down at the table across from my booth. There sat a gentleman who was reading the newspaper and she asked him if he was keeping up with it (I assume some story that was on the page he was reading). I wondered if he was a regular or if she was merely being friendly. My order was called so I walked over to retrieve my grub. Kelly returned to the counter when new customers walked in and was just as sweet to them as she had been to me, no matter who it was. I don’t know her story but I sit and wonder how out of place I found her. Does she work merely for getting out the house or does she have to work? She should be home on her front porch sipping sweet tea while looking into the old eyes of the man who put that ring on her finger ages ago. I think if I come back to Taco Bell anytime soon, it will be to see her. I might even be tempted to hug the dear old lady or bring her flowers to match the name I think fits her in my mind in the short hour she was in my life. My thoughts faded to embarrassment when my cell phone started playing “Jungle Bells”.