It happened again today. She recognized me. I wasn’t prepared to be noticed. Dressed in sweat pants with my hair uncombed, I stopped at the gas station for a quick errand when the cashier greeted me knowingly, “Oh! I think I know who you are.” It took a moment for me to register what she was saying. Then softly I confirmed, “Yes, I am her.” It felt secure to know who I am. I would not have answered that way a year ago.
She continued with the recognition, “I have seen you so many times. How are you?” With tears swelling up in her eyes she had one more question, “How are your kids?” She kept talking to me as if we knew each other, although this was the first time we met. Upon handing me my receipt, I turned to exit the store. “Good bye, Jenny,” she called out proud to have remembered my name attempting to use a nickname as a sign of genuine care. “Have a good day,” she repeated at least three times.
My story reaches further than I know. I sat for a moment inside my truck reflecting on our quick exchange. Being remembered adds much to my healing. Today in the face of a stranger I found comfort.
