Do you ever have days in which everyone you see resembles someone you know? Half of my time is spent bumping into people now and at least half of the time I have no idea how I know them. There are too many options now – did we go to high school together? Graduate school? Did we date? Did I sit next to you on an Amtrak going to that writing conference? Did our kids take pottery class together six years ago? Are you a fan? Another writer? Are we married?
The list goes on.
But every now and then, all falls into place, strangers don’t look familiar and I recognize those I’m meant to.
And then, every so often, I’m in an antique store checking out a tiny painting that I’m sure I can get for a song and the voice inquiring about the massive work of art above my head sounds familiar. Sounds like it’s read me a story. Or rescued me from evil. Or something. And when I look and see the face all I think is – Did our kids go to preschool together? Did you used to have cook-outs with my parents? No. No…that’s not right. And then the smile and I go back to my little art piece which turns out to be an opera, not a song, so I can’t even begin to buy it. But the voice and the laugh, the lulling tones. I look again. Yes, you taught me in college. Poetry? Then why the visions of you in a robe? Good lord, tell me we didn’t make out.
No. We didn’t. I could not have kissed someone who…carried a sword? That lights up?
You are Hands Solo. Harrison Ford.
And I need to get some sleep.