Contrition

“It’s working,” I thought to myself.
My niece scheduled an eat-out. It would be with her mother and boyfriend. Also her daughter, who I think is 22.
They invited me along.
It would be at Finger Lakes Racino, a nearby horse-racing track to which a gambling casino was added.
I never gamble, but the place has a buffet.
I got there before the others, so I entered.
Security didn’t hassle me — I guess I look old enough. “72,” I said.
Into the buffet I went. I paid, and got a table for five.
I then went to the pasta bar. “Angel-hair, marinara, plus five or six of those tiny meatballs.”
The cook-lady prepared my dish, then handed it over.
Suddenly my niece’s mother appeared. There was a problem.
My niece’s daughter had not renewed her driver-license, so could not enter the racino.
We would patronize some place else.
“We’ll refund your money,” the racino staff said.
“What about this?” I asked, pointing to my pasta.
“We’ll toss it in the garbage.”
What a downer! “Little children are starving in China!” I thought, recalling my mother, who always said that.
She was a child of the Depression. “EAT YOUR BROCCOLI!”
“A shame we gotta toss that stuff,” I said to the security-lady. She was built like a center for the New England Patriots.
On meeting my niece’s daughter “This is all your fault,” I said.
“I didn’t even wanna come,” she whined.
CRASH! Stepped in it royally this time.
Off we zoomed to an alternate buffet south of Rochester. Perhaps 25-30 miles from the racino.
I walked in, and sat across from my niece’s daughter. “How about if I apologize?” I asked.
WHOA! Worked like a charm. She smiled and doffed her sunglasses.
Many years ago my niece ran away from home, and spent the night in some friend’s basement.
I looked all over for her with my dog, even a closed nearby shopping-mall where she was seen hanging out.
She returned home the next day, and “Boy-oh-boy am I glad to see you!” I blurted as I burst in.
Her mother was justifiably madder than a hornet, or so it seemed.
Yet apparently I said what my niece wanted to hear. She started crying.
I’ll soon turn 73. Over those many years I’ve deduced sometimes it pays to be contrite.
Especially with youngsters, not old enough to be wary.
Just seeing that daughter smile is enough to make me try again.