Last week on the train I saw a little old lady carrying a Playboy Bunny purse. I wondered if she knew what it meant, or if some mean-spirited grandchild had given it to her as a joke and she thought, "Oh, what a nice rabbit." Because I definitely have people in my family who would find giving such a gift to my un-knowing grandmother hilarious. Why does the old lady carry a Playboy bag? I wonder what her story is.
A couple days ago I stood next to a woman on the train who was on the phone. Judging by her end of the conversation, she was very upset with someone about potato salad. I think about the reasons why I fight with people and get upset with people, and I realize that in 28 years, none of my conflicts in life have ever been about potato salad. Either her life is vastly less complicated than mine and I wish my problems were as mild as potato salad, or I was seriously missing something about her conversation. I wonder what her story is.
The other day, some dude passing me on the street in NYC stopped and looked at me and said, very excitedly, "Hey! Susan!" In the second it took for me to stop and blink at him confused-ly, he realized I was not Susan and walked away. Who is Susan? How much do I actually look like her? Was he supposed to meet her that day, or did he just think he ran into her/me? I wonder what his story is.
This all goes back to yesterday's post, and the lesson that's been in my life lately...we don't know someone, or their story, or their feelings, no matter how much we think we may, just from brief encounters with them. What we get from people, even the people we are closest to, is apparently just a tiny grain of sand compared to the whole island that makes up their life, their personality, their story.
I'm often told that the way I come off to people, the impressions I give, are not the ones I intend and not how I see myself. I wonder what piece of my story people get from chance encounters, or even from whole relationships or lifelong friendships, with me?
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