Date Taken: 6/11/12
Setting: a beautiful park in Northampton County...possibly
Thoughts: Court was playing ultimate, so I went along to watch her play. Before I sat down, I took a walk through this beautiful and extensive park. It was lush and green and bustling with people of all ages engaged in activities of all varieties. I found myself on a path not far from the fields where Court was playing. This particular concrete path ran parallel to a line of houses, bordering the back yards of several in a row.
As I walked past one house, I noticed this cute little pup. He wasn't wandering too far from the trail, but I got nervous. I wasn't sure if he was far from home or just a few feet away, so I stopped to pet him and check his collar. I called the number but got no answer.
Setting: a beautiful park in Northampton County...possibly
Thoughts: Court was playing ultimate, so I went along to watch her play. Before I sat down, I took a walk through this beautiful and extensive park. It was lush and green and bustling with people of all ages engaged in activities of all varieties. I found myself on a path not far from the fields where Court was playing. This particular concrete path ran parallel to a line of houses, bordering the back yards of several in a row.
As I walked past one house, I noticed this cute little pup. He wasn't wandering too far from the trail, but I got nervous. I wasn't sure if he was far from home or just a few feet away, so I stopped to pet him and check his collar. I called the number but got no answer.
An older woman was mowing the lawn on a riding mower, so I approached her and the pup followed, prancing just behind me. I flagged this woman down and she confirmed that it was her dog. We ended up chatting for a good twenty minutes. I don't know what it is, but I get into a lot of conversations with strangers. This past year, I have made it a priority to talk to strangers more frequently, particularly when interacting with them in stores and whatnot. I think though, I just have the personality that attracts people to me and makes them want to tell me their life stories. My dad is very much like this. He is constantly drawn into conversations with people who just want to pour their hearts out to him without really knowing why.
I like to think I project an aura like a sunset, and that this particular aura is soothing and inviting. Whether it is my personality or simply pure coincidence, I generally enjoy talking to strangers and found my conversation with this woman engaging.
She told me about her family, her grand-kids and the colleges they attend. She told me about what the area used to look like when she and her husband first moved in. She traveled back into her own little world and invited me into it as she recalled the vast green expanses that used to mark her neighborhood - back then just a few houses with nothing but grass connecting them. And before I walked away, she casually mentioned the passing of her husband this past winter.
As she said it, I realized that perhaps I was drawn to this woman because of her loss, because of mine. I wondered if we had stumbled upon one another, a small dog as our guide, in order to feel this random and remarkable connection. This woman seemed lonely but not despairing. Her eyes betrayed a kind of sadness that perhaps only comes with age, with watching children grow up and leave, with seeing loved ones slowly depart this earth. Yet, despite sadness, there was also a striking confidence that kept her poised in her riding mower seat. She does things on her own, she takes care of herself, she is her own boss.
Perhaps I needed to see that. Maybe I just needed to know that there are other people out there who have experienced loss, and that those people are surviving.
I like to think I project an aura like a sunset, and that this particular aura is soothing and inviting. Whether it is my personality or simply pure coincidence, I generally enjoy talking to strangers and found my conversation with this woman engaging.
She told me about her family, her grand-kids and the colleges they attend. She told me about what the area used to look like when she and her husband first moved in. She traveled back into her own little world and invited me into it as she recalled the vast green expanses that used to mark her neighborhood - back then just a few houses with nothing but grass connecting them. And before I walked away, she casually mentioned the passing of her husband this past winter.
As she said it, I realized that perhaps I was drawn to this woman because of her loss, because of mine. I wondered if we had stumbled upon one another, a small dog as our guide, in order to feel this random and remarkable connection. This woman seemed lonely but not despairing. Her eyes betrayed a kind of sadness that perhaps only comes with age, with watching children grow up and leave, with seeing loved ones slowly depart this earth. Yet, despite sadness, there was also a striking confidence that kept her poised in her riding mower seat. She does things on her own, she takes care of herself, she is her own boss.
Perhaps I needed to see that. Maybe I just needed to know that there are other people out there who have experienced loss, and that those people are surviving.
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