“Love between strangers takes only a few seconds and can last a whole life.” ~ Simon Van Booy
I don’t know you; you don’t know me.
We’re perfect strangers, just walking past each other on a crowded sidewalk on a sunny Spring day.
We appear to have nothing in common at all.
You’re an older woman, sophisticated and fancy; I’m a young gal still bumbling and fumbling to find her way.
But, beneath our shiny surfaces, we have so much in common.
I see your pain peak out from behind those dark brown sunglasses, just for a tiny whisper of a second.
I gasp, sensing that you’re still finding your way, too, stumbling and unsure.
I feel your spinning web of worries and taste your fluttering butterfly-like fears.
They’re so similar to my own.
I see the dark circles under your eyes, suggesting that life has made you tired, exhausted, hopeless at times.
Maybe you see my pain, too.
I hope so.
Because I don’t believe in strangers, we’re all just people wandering the earth together.
I don’t ever want to think that you’re a stranger.
Because you feel familiar to me.
How could you not?
We’ve shared something profoundly intimate for that split second, a moment unbroken by pretense, undressed with facades.
A moment of pure, unfettered understanding.
We smile faintly at one another, then walk off on different, yet similar paths.
We weave through crowds and brush shoulders with tall men and coo at tiny babies and breathe in the same fresh air while admiring the same puffy white clouds in the same bright blue sky.
We go home to our different yet similar homes, struggle to carry in the groceries, sit down for a minute, then mumble a catchy radio tune while we cook dinner with the same fresh vegetables we bought from the same farmer’s market.
Together, from a distance that can’t be marked by miles because it doesn’t exist.
Together in spirit.
There’s no such thing as strangers, we’re all just people wandering the earth together.
Author: Sarah Harvey
Editor: Emily Bartran
Photo: Flickr/Theodor Hensolt