A Kindred Spirit



I’ve met a kindred spirit, I believe. Hadn’t seen him in years and now here we are, sitting across from each other at a table in a coffee shop. Oh, it’s never really that simple of course. So many interesting things in life just seem to occur as the result of an innocuous series of tiny random events. It makes me pause to wonder about how life really works.

A couple of weeks earlier, as I hit send on an email blast begging everyone I know to sign a petition to potentially stop Donald Trump – when I still had hope – I see the email address of kindred spirit flash by. I’d forgotten I even still had it in my contacts list. We were out of sync when we met before. I remember thinking that everything we said to each other was misinterpreted. Or was it simply my fear? I thought I was ready to break free and enjoy life again, but I was mistaken back then. I still had many miles to go and a lot of forgiveness to experience. I am a different person on this chilly December day.

Something within me begins to come together like a thunderstorm brewing. Slowly at first and then pop…enjoying my creamy cappuccino, I watch him look up some bit of vital, helpful information for me on his phone. Such a simple act of kindness, but I hear my soul talking. “This is a good person. Pay attention,” it commands softly.

We walk along in the brisk December sun on a deserted street in Palo Alto, laughing and talking about everything and nothing. “No, I’d never get married again. I’m happy in my life,” he says smiling. Inside I breathe a big sigh of relief and reply, “Me neither. I just don’t think I was very good at it.” Still, a tiny current of excitement rushes through me when he slides his arm through mine. This is play, this is fun, this is something I have missed for so long. This I can do.

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