The Açaí Was Delicious, Probably

Tamie, Rupert, and I walked to the local farmer’s market on Wednesday for dinner. I invested $18 in an açaí bowl while Tamie got in line for a veggie crepe. Since hers was going to take a while, Rupert and I found a shady spot to wait.

As soon as we sat down, a spirited six-year-old girl emerged from the crowd and asked to pet Rupert, which he immediately sanctioned.

Then, in a single breath, she told us everything: about her dog who used to be ten years old but is now one again (I didn’t question the math), her clay-themed birthday party, and her general philosophy on sticks. She asked if Rupert also liked sticks; he said yes, so she fetched him one. She then asked if she could feed Rupert some açaí. I handed over my spoon, but she found the process inefficient and simply gave him the entire bowl.

I kept scanning the crowd for her adult so I could offer a reassuring head nod that said, “Don’t worry, I’m just a normal 56-year-old man letting a child feed my dog a small fortune in antioxidants.” But she seemed to belong to no one. And also possibly everyone.

When Rupert finished, she handed the empty bowl back to me, then drifted away before Tamie returned.

I looked for her again, hoping to prove I hadn’t invented a child as an excuse for not sharing my açaí with Tamie, but she was nowhere. And also possibly everywhere.

A tiny, recklessly generous apparition? Perhaps. But Rupert will dream about her for the rest of his days.