Irate Customer

Purchasing a greeting card for my wife,
I hear a commotion.
Lots of anger and cussing.
I look around a corner.

I see an older man shove an employee.
Tall, grey hair, grey beard,
probably in his seventies.
He cusses and exits the store.

I start to follow, then stop.
I look out a window
to see if he enters a car.
I’m prepared to write his license plate.

I lose sight of him.
I return to the employees.
As I pay for my card,
I tell them I’m willing to be a witness.

They write down my name and number.
Minor physical assault,
not enough to cause injury,
but enough for law enforcement.

The next day, I receive a call
from a sheriff’s deputy.
I answer his questions;
I describe what I saw and heard.

Now I am triggered;
I tell my wife and my guests.
I then take a long walk,
and ponder the altercation.

My amateur diagnosis:
unresolved trauma.
I hurt for the man;
I understand his adult tantrum.
 
I see myself in him,
myself without recovery.
I remember past public outbursts.
I remember past embarrassments.

I remember past ridicule and judgments.
I remember being unheard and ignored.
I remember the feeling that no one understands.
I remember feeling all alone in the world.

I think about this man,
his struggles, his torment.
I hope he finds healing.
He is my fellow traveler.

– Healing Heart Warrior (Tom M.)