Last Friday I went out to get lunch as usual, to a part of town with wide sidewalks and about a dozen different restaurants. As I headed toward the burrito place, my bag over my shoulder and my cell phone (of course) glued to my ear, I saw someone coming toward me out of the corner of my eye. A woman pushing a baby stroller--common enough in this area. But something made me do a double take, and I realized that this was no stranger, but a friend from childhood I hadn't seen in 15 years.
I knew she'd moved to the area, but I lost track of her a long time ago. And here she was, with a daughter who looked to be about my daughter's age, right in my own neighborhood.
I looked. And then I kept walking.
Of course I had to attend to the conversation on the phone, and of course she looked busy and distracted, and of course I was hungry and didn't have very long for lunch. But in truth, I think it was less the busy-ness of the moment, but the chance that she wouldn't recognize me, wouldn't be interested in a connection, wouldn't want to stop herself.
As soon as the moment passed me by, I realized how much I wished I'd stopped and talked. And I wondered how many connections we miss because we're afraid to take the risk...the risk of rejection, or of lost time, or even of a few awkward moments.
Next time I'll try to make the connection. How about you?
1 comment:
Posted on behalf of Barbara S.:
In the last few years I've become greatly curious about the many people I've encountered over the years with whom I have lost touch. So I have been actively finding them. (It's so easy these days.) I've corresponded with at least a dozen of them, maybe more. And I now know pretty much how the encounters are going to play out. Almost always, the person responds. We have an intense, brief, interchange. And then the connection lapses. At first I felt bad about this, but then I realized I'd actually gotten what I wanted -- a sense of closing a circle, an acknowledgement on the other person's part that once we did matter to each other -- even if not deeply -- and the feeling that I'm not just floating out of this world as I get older, but there are many strings (even if tenuous) that tie me to it.
This week I had a different kind of experience. You know I teach at OLLI. One of the administrators, Lena, overheard me talking about being 80 and suddenly made a connection to her mother, who recently turned 80. So she mentioned Forest Hills High School. It turns out her mother and I were classmates, and when I located my yearbook, I discovered her mother had signed it. (I have no recollection of her, but we obviously knew each other.) Lena and I were both so delighted! The six-degrees-of-separation thing works over and over again!
Some people stay connected for life to the people they knew when they were young. My life has not been like that. Over time I've moved physically and in many other ways, quite frequently, each time leaving behind many people who were important to me. And with each move, my energies quickly transfer to my new situation. (I have now been in Washington longer than any place else!) So reaching back has special meaning for me, and is really enriching my life.
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