Making Connections

In stories and songs and movies, strangers make connections so easily and so often. People's eyes meet across a room and after just a few seconds of eye contact, they're bound to each other forever, in deed or in memory or in imagination. 

This happened to me. It was not romantic. It was typical of life: abrasive and confusing and inconclusive. 

Here's what happened: I was driving through the parking garage, looking for a spot. I was rounding a corner up to the second level when a longboarder was rounding the same corner from the other direction. With no notice, we were face to face and body to body: face and body of car to face and body of boy. Thank goodness for reflexes - he jumped off of his board and ran out of the way as I smashed on my brakes. After it was clear that he was safe, he looked at me and I asked out of my half-open window if he was okay, and he nodded. 

Then we made eye contact and shared a moment of relief. It was clear that we had both been so scared in that tiny moment. His eyes seemed sad. Neither of us said any more words, and I thought we should, but what does one say in that situation? So he picked up his longboard from in front of my car and then he walked to Pita Pit. I parked my car and then curled up and sobbed. 

I sobbed because what if he had died and it wasn't my fault but it was kind of my fault? I sobbed because I was scared, and because I was tired, and because if that day had been a war, the day would have won, and it still wasn't even over.

I composed myself. I got out of my car. I walked through downtown, knowing how splotchy and pathetic my cry-face looked. I wished I didn't have a face. I walked by Pita Pit, and in the window I saw the guy who I had almost just hit. He wasn't crying, nor did he seem very terrified. I looked away before he could see me because I didn't want to make eye contact again. 

And now, even though neither of us decided to, we have a connection. He and I and no one else have this specific mutual experience of being so very frightened for his life. I don't know about him the normal things I know about a person: his name, or if he's a mountain person or a beach person, or what kind of pita he ate, but I know that he didn't die at 6:00 on Tuesday, which is significant and more than I knew about him before. 

So stories and songs and movies were right: a connection between two unlikely people can be made out of nothing in a small amount of time and with little to no verbal communication, and that connection is not readily forgotten. 

After this happened, we each continued with our days. Everything was okay. And that's all. 

Love,
Lauralicious