While sitting on an airport shuttle, a man to my left said he would visit his aging mother in TX and said he had to get a ranch sitter. A woman to my right said, “Oh, I can’t image a RANCH sitter I could barely find a dog sitter.” Everyone laughed, and the man continued by saying he lived in the mountains but was from Sterling.

I said, “I’m from Sterling.” The conversation shifted at that point.

Having something in common with a stranger connects you by sharing memories of landmarks, family names, and community events. All at once, you seem like friends. I never saw the man again once we stepped off the bus, but I think of him and laugh at his confession of a ranch consisting of three cows.

My sister Patty, God Bless her, said she never went anywhere but that she met someone from Akron, our hometown. They would talk about what year they graduated from high school if they knew such and such, and how the town had changed from back in the day.

In the Phoenix airport, I heard, “Jennifer?” I turned, and there was a couple I had known forever, and they currently lived in Sterling. We hardly ever saw each other in Sterling, but in Sky Harbor International Airport, our meeting turned the experience of sitting at the gate waiting for boarding into a laughter fest with priceless stories of past bloops, joys, and farm life.

I met a sweet woman at a rehearsal dinner who asked where I was from. I told her, and she said, “My family lived in Sterling years ago. My dad was a preacher.”

I told her I was actually from Akron, and she said, “Me too. Do you know Marva Lee Deines?” I looked at her questioningly with a furrowed brow and said, “She’s my sister.” The darling woman and I stayed in contact, and our connection with familiar memories made the wedding festivities more meaningful and enjoyable.

As I get older, I find I let go of what I should have done, what I should not have done, and most past hurt and pain. I replace that long list with wit, wisdom, and wonderment. When meeting a friend who comes from the same place and knows the same people, we speak unencumbered and gut-laugh about life back then. The encounter leaves me with a level of comfort, trust, and gratitude, along with a big smile.

I’m here to tell you to make new friends but to trust the value of ‘old’ friends. Seeing people who knew you while trying to figure life out is like a breath of citrus blossoms—sweet, unforgettable, and a perfect, spontaneous gift.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

Powered by WPeMatico