None of us are what we appear to be to others.
Recently while in the grocery store, an expensively dressed mother with three children of very young age, saw some fruit there, and said to the children, “look Asian Pears,” then proceeded putting a number of them in a small paper bag.
She seemed centered on her shopping and her children, but I asked about the fruit, “are they good?”
“Yes, she said, they taste a little bit like apples and little bit like pears. Select the softer ones and perhaps leave them for a day or two.” Then she showed me some of the softer ones.
I realized that she was treating me with the kindness that she would show her dad or her grandfather. Had I not broken the balloon around each of us, I would have never tasted the Asian Pears nor would I have realized that she was more than a picture from a fashion magazine.
I also realized that I seemed more a grandfather image than the 30 year-old that I usually feel inside. And she was more than merely a fashion picture. I found that I really didn't mind being a grandfather image. I said to the children, "do you like Asian Pears," and they all nodded shyly.