2001-07-25 - 10:51 p.m.

A simple tightening of a few tiny muscles is all it takes. But it makes such a difference.

I went into the Market Basket today, much busier than normal this afternoon, and ordered a sandwich. They took down my first name and I went to pay, and then I stood, waiting for my name to be called. Nothing of note seemed to be happening, and I just waited, not noticing anything. My name was called and I went to get the sandwich, only to find out that it was the *other* David that just happened to be in the room, so back I went to stand just out of the way and wait.

I don't know what happened then to cause it, but suddenly I started to Notice things. Not in the way that I just saw things happen, but I started to catch every detail of what was happening around me, and then even of myself.

I rested my left hand on the watermelon strawberry flavored Nantucket Nectars bottle I'd placed on the waist-high round wooden table next to me, putting just a bit of weight on it and crossing my right leg behind my left at the calf. In front of me, behind the glass-protected display of tabouleh, couscous, and various salads, many featuring chicken, stood the girl with the long auburn hair, mature eyes, and slightly high forehead took orders for sandwiches from yuppie tourists and the random Camden National Bank employee, still wearing their name tags. That was when I realized I was still wearing mine, too, but I didn't bother taking it off, as by that point it was pretty much pointless, just minutes before I'd be walking back and have to put it back on.

Past the corner where the display counter turns and becomes the check-out area with the cash register, plastic silverware, and the cup with a pen sitting in it, taped to a plastic spoon for a reason I really don't officially know, but I'm guessing has something to do with making it easier to grab or harder to lose or something, stood the cute shorter girl with the slightly puffy red cheeks, Lisa Loeb-like glasses, and short platinum blonde hair, making sandwiches as the weird older girl with the red T-shirt and the punk look of tattoos covering her arms and coming up a bit out of her collar, orange flames tickling the base of her neck, and black hair looking disheveled, like trying to give a look like there had been distinctly nothing done to style it and it was just left to it's own devices, except for the fact that it had been gelled that way, took orders from the mature-looking auburn-haired one to the cute, almost indie-girl-looking blonde one, two of the three girls who bring me back to the store each weekday at 1:00.

I noticed the third one wasn't there today. She's the one I noticed the first day I went to the store. She's a petite girl with deep brown eyes and long brown hair. She has a small hooked nose, ears pierced twice in the lobes and once in the cartilage at the top and a little mouth that seems to tighten just a bit in concentration while she works, but when she laughs opens wide, revealing a line of beautiful teeth as her body shakes in laughter. I've only seen it twice, but it's great to watch her laugh. She's one of those people who really gets into laughing, hand holding her chest as it convulses up and down with the quick sharp breaths of her high projected laugh, eyes forced closed with the engulfing power of it, she rests the hand not on her chest on a table or something more to balance herself. I think it's the laugh that made me come back the first time, and keeps me returning, hoping to see it again.

And as I stood there, thinking about how the last time I'd seen her, just yesterday when I bought a piece of pre-made lasagna bolognese, was when I'd seen her laugh the most strongly as the mis-stacking of the plastic containers by the blonde indie girl made the petite brown-haired girl knock half a stack of them over, I realized that I, myself was not smiling. Thinking of the happiness I get from seeing people like her, those with great smiles who actually convey true happiness with the simple curving of their mouths and brightening of their eyes, I wondered why I, myself, wasn't smiling. I was happy. I had good friends, a good job, good memories, there was good weather, and I was about to have a good sandwich, I had every reason to smile. Not that there was some deep-seeded depression holding me back from being happy, just that I was so caught up just thinking about the moment, I didn't take the time to just smile and feel good about it.

So I did. Not a big "hey, that thing that just happened was really cool" smile, or a "smile for the camera!" smile, just a simple little "I'm in a pretty good mood" smile. No teeth, no creases in the face, just a curve, a tightening of the muscles there. And that's when I noticed how good it felt to just smile. How good and how natural. Like pulling a belt just one notch tighter when it felt just fine before, and realizing how much more comfortable it is, my face just rested in that position. None of that fading from when a real Big Grin moment passes, like a Stretch Armstrong doll after its extended arms are allowed to go again, just a resting, like the sides of my mouth had just been set on a slightly higher peg and left to sit there. But the difference was amazing. I started to notice, like all of the other details that had found words in my head as I stood there, a general good feeling. Like a very low current of electricity flowing just barely below the surface of my skin from the points at either side of my lips. I felt it like a slight pulsing pressure behind my eyes. Not the kind that pushes and pushes and pushes, never relenting, driving me to a thick pounding headache, but more like the soft timid massage of a loved one afraid to push harder for fear of causing pain. A kind, light, thoughtful pressure that feels good without being too obtrusive.

And as I stood there, analyzing the way this electric pressure flowed through my neck and arms, all the way down my back and through my legs and feet, I glanced over to the counter and noticed as the auburn-haired girl with the high brow looked over at me. I smiled a little bigger smile at her, and she smiled back, and I felt even better. Because I knew, whether she noticed it or not, she could feel it, too.

And I'd helped that happen for her.

Just by smiling.