Most Amish women come in the store and they are quiet. When they are with their husbands, they don't speak at all. They may smile at you, but most of them do not even make eye contact. There is one woman though, she's sort of the Amish version of...well...me, I guess. She talks. She comes to the register, and I said some darn thing, and then she said some darn thing, and then, wouldn't you know, we're blabbing away. Anyways, she came in the store on Saturday, and she held up three fingers. "I'm here for three things!" she sang out, "and don't you let me forget them." Before she could tell me what she had come for, Mr. S. had laid eyes on her and said, "Well, hi!" and they were talking away. Like I said: the Amish version of me. Mr. S. explained that her family had bought the family farm, and been doing wonders with it. It was hard to sell a farm that had been in the family for 71 years, but as he said, it does your heart good to see it becoming a working farm, a well run farm, once again. So she whizzed off (she moves quickly, like she's on roller skates) and soon she was headed for my register. I crossed my arms. "Three things," I said. "If you haven't got them, I'm sending you right back." She laughed. "I'm quite proud of myself. I got all three of them," and she sat down three things, one of which looked suspiciously like an electrical part, but I don't ask questions. She said, "I'm doing the running for the men today." I said, "Well, now that they know you'll do such a fine job of it, you'll be doing a lot more running, I'll bet." She laughed. "They figured that out already. I do a lot of running." She gathered up her purchases and out the door she went, moving at her quick clip, her skirts billowing beneath her wool cape.
I love people.