crossings

Yesterday, I took mom to lunch at one of our favorite places in San Diego, Point Loma Seafood. We sat outside in the wind with our backs to the sun eating crab sandwiches. At neighboring tables sat young and old, black and white, Latino and Asian, a delight to which I took a deep breath and satisfyingly sighed. When we finished eating we lingered, my arm around her shoulder, our foreheads tipping in to touch as I secretly ached for my dad. 

I glanced up at a woman seated facing us with her young son, a woman who earlier I'd seen taking video of the sights. She asked me, politely pointing, if I was with my mother. I said yes and held up my fingers gesturing Mom's age of eighty-three. She smiled warmly and I could tell that she was touched by our image.

A few moments later she approached and asked if she could take our photograph. I happily obliged. She took some video, too, so Mom and I waved into her camera. When she told us to smile a warmth washed over me and my eyes began to tear. As she stood at our table I asked if she was visiting and from where. "China," she said, and she wondered if I'd ever been there. "Hong Kong, for work," I replied, then explained that I lived in San Francisco for ten years where I joined my Chinese friends and colleagues for dim sum every week. I lamented missing that.

She told us that they'd been up to San Francisco where her son had had surgery and that they'd be returning for some follow-up visits. "Maybe we will meet here again," she said, to which I mentioned living in Maine where there is still snow on the ground. I asked her name and in a mild voice she said, "Call me Susan," then I gave her a business card and told her a little about Calvin, a little about epilepsy and a little about the blog. Her handsome husband emerged to take more photographs. Susan jumped in between us and, with her arms draped on our shoulders, I held her hand and began to cry. When she noticed she tenderly said, "oh," and leaned in to give me a hug. These brief crossings, (and I've had many throughout my life), fill my heart and soul, often at times when I feel somewhat empty.

As we parted I encouraged Susan to contact me, and as she walked away with her family, we wished each other good luck with compassionate gazes. I hope to hear from her. And even though our encounter was no more than about fifteen minutes, I know that she is my friend and I hope, one day, to learn her Chinese name.

my new friend, Susan