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convos with strangers

conversations with strangers #112

2.20.15

C and i both have our masters degrees and yet, we could not figure out how to buy a pass for the DC metro system. we tried various options and chatted and approximately 12 minutes later, finally cracked the code. C bought her ticket and as i was purchasing mine, an employee came over.

metro guy: ladies, is everything okay?

C: yup. we finally figured it out.

MG: if you buy the daily pass you save a dollar on every ride.

C: oh, we bought the card where you just put a specific amount of money on it. we’ll be okay with that.

me: this is like reading greek.

MG: where are you all from? i’ve always like the greeks.

C: boston.

C and MG continued the conversation as my attention had to be laser focused on buying my ticket. the machine spit out my ticket, we thanked the man, and went on our way.

me: why did he keep talking about the greeks when you said we were from boston?

C: it was when you said it was like reading greek. he thought we were from greece!

even though he and i were unintentionally having separate conversations, the kindness in his voice and actions was unmistakable.

feelings

boxes

it’s easy to box coworkers into the role they play at work, but all it takes is one moment to realize how rich and varied they are outside of work.

what is one person’s trash (30 moving boxes) is now my treasure!

sometimes all it takes is to ask for help. sometimes the hardest thing to do is ask for help.

change is all around, all engulfing, all encompassing and so we have to hug the familiar while we still can.

feelings

tuesdays with maga

every week, every tuesday i talk to my grandmother. she lives in colorado. the more we talk, the more i realize how eerily similar we are. there’s the chasing of sunsets and handwritten letters and calls to say thank you for thank you note and despair upon seeing buckets of snow falling from the sky and wondering how the tiny clouds could hold so much and the exhaustion of winter and the gigantic never ending impossible wish for family to be closer to combat the bone deep ache of loneliness.

could this all be genetic or did she teach her habits to my mother and my mother taught them to me?