First Post on the new journal
I had an oddly profound experience today.
I've been moving through work in sort of a haze this week, completely excited for Friday to arrive. It's like the last week of school, knowing my time will be done and I'll have two weeks off before I start my new job. So, when I stopped to talk to a woman I met, I really didn't mind lingering, because what were they going to do, fire me? Not that anyone would have actually minded, I had no deliveries left to make.
I was talking to a co-worker when I saw her come down the driveway, carrying some bags. I tried to be extra polite, because homeowners (especially in wealthy neighborhoods) tend to be very sharp with truck drivers parking in front of their homes, even just on the street. I liked her hair, and told her as much. It was white and black and bouncy with curls, tucked back in a colorful bandana. She said she 'forgot she had hair, it just grew back recently' and I wondered if she might be recovering from cancer. She was very frank, somewhat blunt, as we made small talk. As we idly chatted, I realized she wasn't blunt out of malice or rudeness, she was just a direct person, so I immediately liked that - we had something in common, lol.
It turned into one of those conversations, where when you look back, you struggle to figure out how you wound up talking about the things you did; something lead from A to B to pi, but I couldn't tell you what those things were. They just happened.
At some point my time in the military came up, and she was excitedly thanking me for my service, which, honestly, that will always make me feel awkward no matter what. I have no idea what I'm suppose to say back. Thank you? I wasn't getting shot at, so I don't feel like I should be praised. But it's a kind and thoughtful thing to say to, so I try to show gratitude. She told me a little about her sister who was going to be a nurse, and was accepted in the military, between wars, back in the day. She unfortunately died before she left at age 25; she had wanted to travel. And I think that was the link that lead her to talk about the sister she had just lost last week. Her voice quavered. She pushed through it and kept talking, her words pouring out like water breaking from a dam. Her voice shook again, so I reached out and held her. It's an odd thing, hugging a stranger. I'm not a 'huggy' person per se, but I could tell she needed a hug, and that she wouldn't push me away. It was a brief hug, I think because she is also a proud sort of person. But as we talked and she got more choked up, I gave her a thorough hug and she hugged me back. This was the third sister she had lost to suicide, she explained. She was going through the 'would of, could of, should of', and I explained how I could relate. We talked and I wiped away her tears and, eventually, made her laugh.
By the time we were done talking we were fast friends. She was a fascinating person to talk to, and I realized later, that she reminded me a lot of my own mother. I offered to take her to Starbucks later next week, where she could let off some more stress about work and her loss, and I promised to tell her some fantastic stories. I told her that I was extremely glad to make a new friend, and she said likewise, adding that she was old enough to be my grandmother, much less my mother, but that she would just consider herself a big sister.
I didn't find out her name until we had been talking for probably an hour; Mo. So I am thrilled to pieces that I made a new friend. She's vibrant, interesting to talk to, and a big sweetheart.
I've been moving through work in sort of a haze this week, completely excited for Friday to arrive. It's like the last week of school, knowing my time will be done and I'll have two weeks off before I start my new job. So, when I stopped to talk to a woman I met, I really didn't mind lingering, because what were they going to do, fire me? Not that anyone would have actually minded, I had no deliveries left to make.
I was talking to a co-worker when I saw her come down the driveway, carrying some bags. I tried to be extra polite, because homeowners (especially in wealthy neighborhoods) tend to be very sharp with truck drivers parking in front of their homes, even just on the street. I liked her hair, and told her as much. It was white and black and bouncy with curls, tucked back in a colorful bandana. She said she 'forgot she had hair, it just grew back recently' and I wondered if she might be recovering from cancer. She was very frank, somewhat blunt, as we made small talk. As we idly chatted, I realized she wasn't blunt out of malice or rudeness, she was just a direct person, so I immediately liked that - we had something in common, lol.
It turned into one of those conversations, where when you look back, you struggle to figure out how you wound up talking about the things you did; something lead from A to B to pi, but I couldn't tell you what those things were. They just happened.
At some point my time in the military came up, and she was excitedly thanking me for my service, which, honestly, that will always make me feel awkward no matter what. I have no idea what I'm suppose to say back. Thank you? I wasn't getting shot at, so I don't feel like I should be praised. But it's a kind and thoughtful thing to say to, so I try to show gratitude. She told me a little about her sister who was going to be a nurse, and was accepted in the military, between wars, back in the day. She unfortunately died before she left at age 25; she had wanted to travel. And I think that was the link that lead her to talk about the sister she had just lost last week. Her voice quavered. She pushed through it and kept talking, her words pouring out like water breaking from a dam. Her voice shook again, so I reached out and held her. It's an odd thing, hugging a stranger. I'm not a 'huggy' person per se, but I could tell she needed a hug, and that she wouldn't push me away. It was a brief hug, I think because she is also a proud sort of person. But as we talked and she got more choked up, I gave her a thorough hug and she hugged me back. This was the third sister she had lost to suicide, she explained. She was going through the 'would of, could of, should of', and I explained how I could relate. We talked and I wiped away her tears and, eventually, made her laugh.
By the time we were done talking we were fast friends. She was a fascinating person to talk to, and I realized later, that she reminded me a lot of my own mother. I offered to take her to Starbucks later next week, where she could let off some more stress about work and her loss, and I promised to tell her some fantastic stories. I told her that I was extremely glad to make a new friend, and she said likewise, adding that she was old enough to be my grandmother, much less my mother, but that she would just consider herself a big sister.
I didn't find out her name until we had been talking for probably an hour; Mo. So I am thrilled to pieces that I made a new friend. She's vibrant, interesting to talk to, and a big sweetheart.