After my demo for the client, I was feeling rather sad. But I had no time to dwell on it. Another online meeting was attended and a then I still had to pack.
As I was packing I took a long look at the pink toiletries bag I've used for probably a decade now. It was given to me by one of my best girlfriends back when I lived in the DC area. I realized I was wearing the sea glass earring given to me by one of my other best girlfriends from DC. These two women were a huge part of my life from my early 20s to my mid 30s. For some totally me reason the toiletry bag and earrings in combination filled me with nostalgia and felt strangely like a gentle hug from far away. I made a mental note that I really needed to write these two ladies, who also have crazy busy lives balancing families and careers of their own, and remind them how much I love them and how there a little pieces of them (from the gifts they've given and pictures we've taken) all over my home and some that I keep with me much of the time. These line of thought made me both happy and sad (I really miss these ladies).
By the time I left the house, I was feeling very blue--already missing my babies and my mister (I did get to give a proper good-bye to our dog, but she just made me feel guilty for leaving her) and missing my DC friends. And I had a giant list of undone things running through my head.
Getting to the airport I was utterly unexcited about my trip and a touch mopey. When I boarded my flight I was definitely not feeling social. I hoped the totally full flight would be very quick.
When the passenger in the seat next to me boarded, he was clearly agitated. His body language said "GRRR." I probably noticeably sighed when he sat down. Though, he probably did not notice the sigh because he was wrapped up in his crankiness. As soon as he sat down, he got on his phone and called someone to rant about how cranky he was in language that would get his conversation an "R" rating.
When he got of his phone he looked at me and said, "I like your earrings. What is that? Sea-glass?"
"Yes, it is," I replied. Cranky-man's demeanor changed slightly. He started to tell me about his fond memories of gathering sea-glass on the beach where he lived in Hawaii. I asked which island. He tells me, he grew up on Kauai, pointing out the his tattoo of the island mixed in with all the other ink on his hand. I told him I'd lived on Oahu when I was in intermediate school and a starting high school. His previously tense posture had dramatically changed for the better. We chat a while about our island experiences. We're the same age, it turns out. And it turns out our overlapping time in Hawaii was not our only thing in common, we also live in San Francisco at the same time as well. We had a good conversation about fun times in our younger days. We continued on to talk about all the cool things our little corner of Alabama has to offer and how we just smile when our friends from out of state question our choice.
He said, "Isn't if funny how we have all these common threads? I'm so glad I said something about the earrings. I was in such a bad mood and mad at everyone when I got on the plane but now I'm feeling good with all these happy memories." I told him I'd appreciated the compliment and the conversation, too. It had lightened my mood as well.
Paying a stranger a compliment is such a little thing but it can pay dividends, for the receiver and the giver. And if we stop to notice little things like earrings or wicked cool ink or some other unique aspect of that stranger sitting/standing next us, we might find how much we really have in common, how connected we are. And there's a lot of warm, fuzzy, mood-changing goodness to feeling connected. It's a little thing, but it's all good.
