A Beacon in the Trader Joe's Parking Lot

I ran into a son in the Trader Joe's parking lot.  His Mom has Alzhiemer's and was at Sunrise when my Mom was there.  We used to chat a little when we were visiting.  "She's doing pretty good" that's what we said to each other, but we both knew that was a response for other people.  He rolled down his window a little further and then we talked.  We smiled and kinda chuckled about how strong our mother's were, and how they were still kicking.  We talked about how our Mom's were healthy and vibrant and beautiful and lovely and didn't smoke to much or drink to much (for women of their era.) We shook our heads, wondering why them...  I asked him how he is doing. "Okay" he said.  He had a lot of stress a while ago, but he's learned to take better care of himself.  I admitted it was getting harder and harder for me to visit Peggy without getting depressed.  We stood there, in the midst of our errands, the craziness of the Trader Joe's parking lot and smiled at each other. It was really nice to see him.

This is hard to explain, but seeing him gave me the feeling as if I was  in Europe, or Africa traveling for a long time and I just ran into someone from my home town.  Someone with whom I can relate to in this foreign landscape. Someone who speaks the same language, with the same accent, someone who knows why things are different here, and how you can even taste it in the water.  He know's this because he is from the same place I grew up, the place where we had Moms.