A Moment of Her Time

"We were almost chased by some buffalo when we were riding through Wind Cave. We know they are dangerous."

The three bikers were from Texas, enjoying our Black Hills while consciously avoiding the high traffic and prices of the Sturgis Rally.

As we were standing outside Shopko, chatting about the beauty of our Hills and the warmth of the people in Hot Springs, a short, dark-haired lady interrupted.

"Excuse me. Are you Mary GGGG?"

She was trying to say my last name so I quickly responded that I was Mary Goulet.

"I thought I recognized you. You are the author that wrote that book."

"Which one of my books are you referring to?"

"The one about the Cascade fire. My father read that book and he wants to come here to Hot Springs to see all of the places you wrote about. He loves your book. I just wanted you to know that."

With that she walked off before I had time to even say my thanks properly. Her interruption was so sudden and unexpected that I stuttered something, not sure what.

In hindsight I regret not talking with her more. She went out of her way to tell me about her father and my book. This was one of those times, a moment of her time, to show appreciation for my work, and I blew it. So wherever this woman is, hopefully through this blog, she will know that I do appreciate her words, and because of this brief interruption, I will not be so casual in my words of thanks to those who have touched my life in some way.

Life is too short. Words are too special to waste.