Passing

Every once in a great while, a stranger catches my eye for no reason in particular, except an astonishing sense of deja-vu or a fleeting feeling of what-might-have-been.

It’s happening again, right this minute—and like always, I’m caught off guard.

I realize full well that once she crosses the street and rounds the bend, with me walking in the opposite direction, I’ll never see her again in this lifetime. She’ll blend into the crowd of window-shoppers and I’ll turn into the coffee shop as if nothing has just happened.

Suddenly it occurs to me that this seems wrong somehow. I’m startled by the thought.

Why should it matter to either one of us? Hundreds of others have passed me by on my afternoon stroll, our eyes never meeting, our smiles unexchanged. Why should she be any different?

Because our eyes do meet, that’s why.

If only for a second, a glint of sunlight passes between the branches of a blazing maple tree and cuts a path between us. We look up, startled to be face-to-face, struck speechless. We keep walking away from each other, though, as if we notice nothing.

What else can we do?

Even if I run into her again someday, I’ll never remember her, I tell myself. She’s unremarkable in appearance, not particularly fashionable or dramatically blonde or shockingly thin.

She’s just a girl, like me.

It’s the falling leaves, that’s all. They’ve hypnotized me again, they’ve held me sway under the October spell of their sunkissed dance until I’ve come to imagine that she and I are destined to meet, that if I don’t turn back and speak to her now, both of our lives will end up missing something—someone—we were meant to know.

I don’t say a word, but I know what I would say if I had the courage. I would stop in my tracks, smile like I’d known her forever, and say, “It’s you.”

Her eyes would flutter with confusion, and then twinkle with amusement and recognition before she’d finally say, “And it’s you.”

That’s exactly what would happen, don’t you think?

It’s you.

Posted by Katy on 10/13/05 at 08:15 PM

Fallible Comments...

I would, totally, but I'm weird.
Posted by Lynn on 10/13/05 at 10:32 PM
No beautiful and true impulse should be denied.
Posted by Patry on 10/14/05 at 01:09 AM
"meant to" is such a melancholy phrase.

Your words are lovely, Katy. I hope you meet her again. If you're meant to.

Love, Jeanne
Posted by Jeanne Damoff on 10/14/05 at 01:15 AM
I've experienced similar things, but would never be able to describe it like you do.

Glad your comments are working!
Posted by Pattie on 10/14/05 at 01:20 AM
I like it when I think to pray when in that place . . . like with a clerk checking out at a store, or someone in line, or someone sitting around me in a waiting area, or . . . "God, what would You have me say? Is there something You need me to pass on to this person?" I often want it to make ME feel good . . . perhaps I'm looking too deep. Perhaps just being the one person who's kind.

Years ago when checking out with items to make thank you gifts for my first baby, baby-shower hosteses, somehow a conversation was struck and I mentioned the intent of the purchase. And she responded with a distant pain, "I was never given a baby shower for any of my babies."

I don't know if ever the "encounter" is for them or for me. I've become more bold over the years, but probably not anywhere near the place where God could do amazing things through me every day if I were so alert and seeking and willing.

I wonder, too, was that a missed opportunity? Was I supposed to say something? Did they need a smile? Did they need to connect with someone today? Did I miss something for me?

Those feelings that stir saying, "there should be a connection here," are difficult to articulate - you did a great job, Katy!

Funny, I must have a very "generic" face. I cannot even begin to count the number of times someone has come up to me over the years and said, "don't I know you?" or, "you look exactly like my friend/sister/sister in law/etc." I've kinda become numb to it and usually say something like, "Gosh, I hear that all the time!"
Posted by Ame on 10/14/05 at 02:02 AM
I just wanted to comment, so I'd reassure you that the comments were working and you'd lay off the xanax...

The comment system looks very cool.

Michael- One of Four
Posted by Michael Main on 10/14/05 at 04:47 PM
Oh, noooo, Michael . . . don't make her give up the Xanax!!! That's some awesome stuff!!!
Posted by Ame on 10/15/05 at 04:46 AM
autumn leaves, yeah let's blame them

all looking good here btw! cyberspace is really rather overrated don't you think?
Posted by Lorna on 10/15/05 at 03:34 PM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	Passing Every once in a great while, a stranger catches my eye for no reason in particular, except an astonishing sense of deja-vu or a fleeting feeling of what-might-have-been. It’s happening again, right this minute—and like always, I’m caught off guard. I realize full well that once she crosses the street and rounds the bend, with me walking in the opposite direction, I’ll never see her again in this lifetime. She’ll blend into the crowd of window-shoppers and I’ll turn into the coffee shop as if nothing has just happened. Suddenly it occurs to me that this seems wrong somehow. I’m startled by the thought. Why should it matter to either one of us? Hundreds of others have passed me by on my afternoon stroll, our eyes never meeting, our smiles unexchanged. Why should she be any different? Because our eyes do meet, that’s why. If only for a second, a glint of sunlight passes between the branches of a blazing maple tree and cuts a path between us. We look up, startled to be face-to-face, struck speechless. We keep walking away from each other, though, as if we notice nothing. What else can we do? Even if I run into her again someday, I’ll never remember her, I tell myself. She’s unremarkable in appearance, not particularly fashionable or dramatically blonde or shockingly thin. She’s just a girl, like me. It’s the falling leaves, that’s all. They’ve hypnotized me again, they’ve held me sway under the October spell of their sunkissed dance until I’ve come to imagine that she and I are destined to meet, that if I don’t turn back and speak to her now, both of our lives will end up missing something—someone—we were meant to know. I don’t say a word, but I know what I would say if I had the courage. I would stop in my tracks, smile like I’d known her forever, and say, “It’s you.” Her eyes would flutter with confusion, and then twinkle with amusement and recognition before she’d finally say, “And it’s you.” That’s exactly what would happen, don’t you think? It’s you. Posted by Katy on 10/13/05 at 08:15 PM Fallible Comments... I would, totally, but I'm weird. Posted by Lynn on 10/13/05 at 10:32 PM No beautiful and true impulse should be denied. Posted by Patry on 10/14/05 at 01:09 AM "meant to" is such a melancholy phrase. Your words are lovely, Katy. I hope you meet her again. If you're meant to. Love, Jeanne Posted by Jeanne Damoff on 10/14/05 at 01:15 AM I've experienced similar things, but would never be able to describe it like you do. Glad your comments are working! Posted by Pattie on 10/14/05 at 01:20 AM I like it when I think to pray when in that place . . . like with a clerk checking out at a store, or someone in line, or someone sitting around me in a waiting area, or . . . "God, what would You have me say? Is there something You need me to pass on to this person?" I often want it to make ME feel good . . . perhaps I'm looking too deep. Perhaps just being the one person who's kind. Years ago when checking out with items to make thank you gifts for my first baby, baby-shower hosteses, somehow a conversation was struck and I mentioned the intent of the purchase. And she responded with a distant pain, "I was never given a baby shower for any of my babies." I don't know if ever the "encounter" is for them or for me. I've become more bold over the years, but probably not anywhere near the place where God could do amazing things through me every day if I were so alert and seeking and willing. I wonder, too, was that a missed opportunity? Was I supposed to say something? Did they need a smile? Did they need to connect with someone today? Did I miss something for me? Those feelings that stir saying, "there should be a connection here," are difficult to articulate - you did a great job, Katy! Funny, I must have a very "generic" face. I cannot even begin to count the number of times someone has come up to me over the years and said, "don't I know you?" or, "you look exactly like my friend/sister/sister in law/etc." I've kinda become numb to it and usually say something like, "Gosh, I hear that all the time!" Posted by Ame on 10/14/05 at 02:02 AM I just wanted to comment, so I'd reassure you that the comments were working and you'd lay off the xanax... The comment system looks very cool. Michael- One of Four Posted by Michael Main on 10/14/05 at 04:47 PM Oh, noooo, Michael . . . don't make her give up the Xanax!!! That's some awesome stuff!!! Posted by Ame on 10/15/05 at 04:46 AM autumn leaves, yeah let's blame them all looking good here btw! cyberspace is really rather overrated don't you think? Posted by Lorna on 10/15/05 at 03:34 PM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: D-Day Previous entry: No Comment? << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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Passing

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri