Oh, The People You'll Meet

I met her in England, in an elderly home where they laughed and played games, had parties every week, and their own rooms with windows to a garden. She sat in bed surrounded by faded post cards and letters pinned to the wall, a vase of yellow flowers and a stack of well read books with half a glass water on her bedside. When we walked into the room she looked up from staring at nothing, a smile grew wide on her face, eyes shining, and life breathing into her sagging skin. I smiled back, reflex of the contagion, we hadn't met but we knew each other. 

I relaxed, at ease with my husband and father-in-law, we circled her bed and kissed cheeks in hello. There were brief introductions of courtesy, no one remembers them now. No, I remember the black and white post cards from Africa and Russia filled with missings and reminiscings in shaky cursive. A love letter gone soft and frail to touch, I had to step away or I would have stroked the blue letters and watch the paper fall, the love in the years disintegrating at my touch. 

Watching me, she begins to tell of her travels, the times and parts of her life she holds most dear. Walking the Great Wall of China, riding an elephant through the forests of India, living under the open sky of Kenya, shoes covered in the sand of the pyramids, scaling Volcanos in New Zealand, making wine in Italy, and hiking the great expanse of Russia. And in between, being a nurse during WWII, getting married and raising kids. 

Her life was amazing, like a book filled with endless adventures while waiting for a sequel. She found adventure in everything. Every day, she said, someone visited her now and she remembered a place she had been, a drink she had had with a friend. I asked her thoughts on America, had she been there. "Oh," she said, "I would never want to go to such a place." I smiled and nodded my head as if I understood She hadn't realized where I was from, but it didn't matter, I didn't mind.  I knew then she hadn't experienced all there was, she hadn't grown as much as I thought she would have from seeing so much of the world. She was another person, amazing, with astounding stories, yes, but human just the same.