The Mexican who moved me

Last Saturday we celebrated Whitley, my niece's, first birthday in Independence KS. A year ago, we were waiting for her to arrive. My sister-in-law labored all of Valentine's Day. Even still, Brett and I were able to get away to one of a handful of restaurants in Independence that isn't fast food. No offense, Independence. Here we came, El Pueblito.

Brett arranged for his mother to watch our little mister so he could take me out this Valentine's Day. Here we come again, El Pueblito.

The meal was fine - good Mexican food. I thought I might treat myself to dessert. I often go without it at restaurants . . . . maybe that's not true. I order a dessert hoping someone else will share it with me and when they don't feel guilty about spending the money. BUT, my sweet husband says no to dessert all but once or twice a year (not an exaggeration, call him if you want verification).

I ordered the flan on our server's recommendation. He was a small, quiet, sweet sort of man - you could tell from the beginning that he genuinely wanted to please us. When he brought the flan and set it in front of me, he cautiously asked, "Is it okay? The cream? I put the cream around it? It's okay?" He looked so vulnerable. I hadn't noticed until he mentioned it, but quickly looked down to see his careful touch. I looked back at him and smiled, "It's perfect, thank you." Just a flash of a moment, but I easily gathered that he had made an extra effort to make my particular dessert more special. Not everyone got a ring of whipped cream around their flan. And not everyone's ring of whipped cream was so attentively sculptured in tiny mounds, like little jewels. He had certainly taken some time to make it beautiful and he most certainly would have been hurt or at least disappointed if I had not liked it, or not noticed.

I don't think I stood out anymore than the next person he served . . . except that I'm largely pregnant, no pun intended. I just think this is who this sweet little Mexican is. Thoughtful, vulnerable, kind.

I described it to Brett, who all the while was across from me. Of course he witnessed the same thing, but I did unveil for him that the moment had cracked me open. I cried. I asked him did he think it silly for me to cry about flan with rings of cream. No, he didn't.

When the little Mexican came to clear our plates, I told him, "The flan was very nice - thank you for the recommendation." He was beaming. "And you'll come back tomorrow!" For a split second I was sad we didn't live in Independence and even more sad to tell him we were from out of town.

I just kind of wanted to hug him. So precious.