Finding Home Anywhere You Go

I woke up in my tight, little room to another beautifully gloomy English morning. By now I had my usual morning routine set… I’d get up, head down the creaky, narrow staircase for breakfast, then head out and see what the rest of the day had in store for me.
Today I had planned to start my morning with a leisurely stroll in the park nearby. On my way to the park, I spotted a quaint little convenience store; it was nothing out of the ordinary, it looked just like any other convenience store one would come across, but perhaps the Victorian architecture of the building framing it is what gave it its charm.
I entered the quiet, little store and reached through the dust particles dancing in the sunlight to grab a bottle of water. There were only two other people inside, the cashier, and an elderly man sitting behind the counter. As I approached the counter, I noticed the elderly man squinting his eyes, examining me.
“Hold on… here you go, thank you!” I muttered as I was paying for the water bottle. The cashier, a frail skinny fellow with a smile on his face asked, “Where are you from?” Feeling defeated at having a part of my identity of being a “tourist” in this country exposed, I answered, “Well, Egypt… and Greece!”
The elderly man’s face lit up as he suddenly spoke to ask, “you are from Greece? What part?” Amused by his sudden interest, I replied that I’m from Athens and he said, “Ahh, me too!” We began to enthusiastically engage in conversation and by about three minutes in, as the elderly man was reminiscing about his younger days under the Mediterranean sun, I already felt some strange familiarity growing between us.
In about fifteen minutes or so, the old man told me of his ups and downs in life; he spoke of his recent stroke which left him half paralyzed, and he also proudly spoke of his daughter as he showed me a small picture of her that he kept in his withered wallet.
Just as I was about to leave to continue on with my pre-planned morning stroll, the old man handed me a card and said, “Here is my card, if you ever come again you must call me… my daughter can help you with work, it’s ok, you are like my daughter too.” Though I may not remember the old man’s name anymore, I can never forget those fifteen minutes in which I found home… family, in that little convenience store. I walked out into the numbingly cold air feeling nothing but warmth.