I was waiting in line behind a young man — late 20’s, if I had to guess. Next to him was a quiet, young girl; her dark brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She wore pink sweatpants and a light blue jacket. From their loving interaction, it seemed she was his daughter; him her dad.

I was right.

The man stood at the counter in a conversation with the cashier, while the young girl peered at a nearby bulletin board, as if an adult shopping for modern art.

“Here is your change, sir.”

The man turned around, collecting the coins and placed them in the front pocket of his rugged blue jeans. 

“Thank you.” 

Just as the man and his daughter were gathering their belongings to leave, he realized he had forgotten to order something. I couldn’t see what it was from where I was standing, but it didn’t matter. I could hear what he said next.

The cashier  rang up his second total.

“That will be $2.44,” she said.

He handed her a twenty-dollar bill. The cashier looked puzzled.

“Don’t forget about the change I just gave you,” she said.

He sighed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t spend my change.”

There was a pause. It seemed silence was her way to exhibit confusion and ask for an explanation.

“I keep all of my change,” he said, smiling at his daughter. “Any change I have at the end of each day goes in my daughter’s piggy bank. Sorry, it’s our rule.”

The cashier smiled.

“Not to worry. She’s a lucky little girl to have you as her Daddy.”

The transaction was complete. The young girl and her Dad were on their way. And, the cashier was looking to help the next customer in line.

But, for a few minutes in that line, I witnessed something great. A father’s love for his daughter. And, one young woman with memories of life as “Daddy’s little girl”. Let’s make that two of us.