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Do I know you?


There’s currently a standoff at my house on who is going to cook dinner. It’s just me and the man so our solution for the past couple of nights has been to go to a diner that is in the next town over.  Problem solved.  Last night my spouse and I were on the verge of having one of “those” talks after several days of biting at each other’s heals and the waitress did a great job of interrupting us at the perfect moments stalling any intense public discussions.  I thought she was very nice and I think we were both grateful for the re-starts she unknowingly supplied for us.

I’ve been drowning in an overwhelming feeling of loneliness for the past few weeks, beginning with my 24 year old daughters exit to NYC to live with her friends for the summer.  We’re close, and I miss her intensely even while being very happy for her that she is living her life. (and a pretty cool one at that)  Besides, she’ll return at the end of summer to go back to school and we’ll be back to fighting for space, privacy, the upper hand – before I know it.  But this blog isn’t about my beautiful daughter.  It’s about coincidence and timing.

So tonight we return to the same diner, my bewildered spouse and I, in better moods but still timid over the storms that have been passing through our relationship with my unpredictable feelings of mourning.  (I use the word mourning because that’s the closest I can come to describing how I feel lately)  I don’t believe our waitress remembered us from the previous night, but I recognized her.  She became very chatty and friendly- more so than the attentive-service-make-you-feel-at-home that a good server will provide.  I could see/hear that she was literally brimming over the top with the need to just talk.  She asked about my sweatshirt (yes, its summer in Connecticut and I’m sporting a sweatshirt) which is a bright orange Harley Davidson oversized MOST comfortable attire for a rainy cold night.  Then she proceeded to talk about her Dad and the memories she has off his bikes, and cars etc.

As she repeatedly returned with helpful suggestions on sauces to try with my spinach pie (yum, just yum) she would stay a bit longer and talk a bit more.  This girl needed to talk.  I thought D would become irritated, but he rolled with it……and chatted back a bit with her although most of the conversation was between her and I.  I love him for that - His patience with this waitress who had taken our dinner conversation hostage, who is also a person who obviously needed some talking time with people who might listen.

She’s had a tough row to hoe like many.  I learned that she grew up next to the town I grew up in (both of us transplanted now) and that she lives in a halfway house, (explaining why she chose this particular town to move to….not her choice at all) and that she made some poor passive choices in her life that led her to where she is now…..waitressing, no car, looking for more and/or better work.  Even with 10 years difference in age we know some of the same people.

Now, there are some that would think this is pretty inappropriate talk between people in this particular situation…..i would have been one of those “some” before tonight.  However, as I sat there listening to her I couldn’t help but think how easily our situations could have been reversed. While our lives are on completely different paths, how very similar we are both feeling.  Helpless.  Frustrated.  Sad…..and hopeful for a better future.

I don’t know what kind of a sign this is, and I don’t know if I believe in coincidence, but I do believe what goes around comes around and that we are all more alike than we are different.  Was she sent to me by some divine power to give me a big kick in the ass to appreciate my life more than I do?  Am I meant to help her?  Or have I already by not passing judgment, by allowing her to talk, by encouraging her to carry on and not give up?  Has she been placed in my path for a reason? And if so, what is that reason?

This is the type of circular thinking that takes place in my head on a daily basis.  It’s my life in the middle of the street.

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