Darlin'

"Darlin'"

There is something sweet about men who hold open the doors for me, or women who offer to reach items on high shelves at the grocery store.  But for this yankee from northwestern Illinois, the most charming habit in Oklahoma is the use of loving names.

"Let me get that door, darlin'", said one man wearing boots and jeans and a backwards baseball cap.

"Here, hon, that bag of groceries looks mighty heavy," another man, the age of my grown sons, offered as I tried to open the car door.

A frizzy-haired woman said, as she brushed by me, "I'm sorry, doll, I didn't mean to bump you.  'You okay?"

And the old lady and her old husband who grinned at me when I trundled by on the riders at Buy For Less and advised me to "watch them corners, sweetie."  They were probably almost as old as I am.  We understood each other.

Then there was the young guy, not a day over 20, who saw me lifting groceries from my basket at Target, struggling to  find my keys in my jeans pocket at the same time.  When will I learn to do one task before starting another?  But he simply walked over, pulled open the hatch back and turned to take my sacks.  As he put them in the car, he smiled and said, "There you go, ma'am.  Have a blest day."

I thanked him, and he replied, "That's okay.  You remind me of my grandma."  Another loving name.