On Talking to Strangers

     Today I walked to the river. It's easy to forget that I live so close; after 15 minutes on a bike or about 30 on foot I can smell the blackberry bushes and hear the water while watching out for those packs of zooming bicyclists in their bright spandex outfits. I didn't plan on walking to the river. In fact, the only reason I got up well before I had to leave for work was the Internet. I have been waiting for an important email regarding my application to be a Glimpse correspondent during my upcoming stay in Ireland. I was told that finalists would be announced in July. Today is July 31st. Remembering this, I got out of bed and checked my email. Still nothing. What with one roommate moved out to DC, the other away housesitting, my ended relationship now 6 weeks in the past, no mail coming because it is Sunday, and no Glimpse announcement, today could have been the kind of lonely and disappointing day that I dread. But I walked to the river, and in so many simple ways my life is better for it.
     There were people along the river. I met an elderly couple who walk their American Bulldogs out there every day. We talked for a while about them and me and their dogs and the families of wild turkeys who live out by the river. They were happy to share with me, and pointed out the dark shape of a turkey up ahead in the dry yellow grass. I don't remember exactly how our conversation got past hello, but I know it started with hello. Isn't that how almost all great and small relationships and life intersections start? That nice lady said hello and now I know that there are turkeys along the river and that American Bulldogs are calm, loving dogs who weight about 85 pounds and that there exists in this world a happy healthy old couple who walk their dogs to the river together every day. I aspire to be like them. I wonder how long ago it was when they first said hello to each other...
     I passed them eventually and kept on walking to find that there were blackberries along the river. I tiptoed and picked my way over the round river pebbles and thorny low branches to pick some for breakfast. Wild blackberries for breakfast, just like that! I consider any day on which I can eat wild blackberries along the river a good day. They made me think of the blackberries that grow out by the barn, and the people I always see pulled over to the side of the road so they can pick some. Maybe I will talk to them, too.
     There were friends riding horses along the river. I had turned my back to the water and was beginning to head home when I saw those big four-legged shapes off to my left, down the dusty stone-strewn path. Two ladies were taking a Sunday trail ride together, and I waved and walked over to them to introduce myself as a fellow horse owner. I used to think that this was considered bothering people, but I said hello anyway. They halted their horses to stop and chat and told me about the best places to park a horse trailer when I decide to go riding along the river. I told them that if I was not Ireland-bound in a week I would get their numbers and come riding with them next time. Imagine that- I could find trail riding friends that easily, just there along the river like the blackberries.
     And of course there were turkeys along the river, just like the old couple had said. Concerned-looking hens clucked and herded their chicks along the sides of the bike path, and the chicks reminded me of the big flock of little kids who play on the sides of my street some afternoons.
     There was life along the river. After that first conversation with the elderly couple, I greeted everybody I saw. Who knows what they have to offer? A quick conversation, a warm greeting, useful information, perhaps the beginning of a new friendship. A smile and a hello can bring about any of these. Spending time with my next door neighbor and her small son is how I learned she has a sister in Dublin who is married to a professor at Trinity College. I am now corresponding with him via email and he offered to show me around the historic campus when I get to Ireland. Taking up my other neighbor's offer to fix my loudly clattering bicycle led to a long laugh-filled conversation in his driveway and free tune ups for both my bike and my roommate's. Living in my community- talking to my neighbors, greeting people on the street, going for a morning walk to the river- is perhaps the best way to expand my horizons. When an empty house and an empty email inbox left me feeling lonely and unfulfilled this morning, I went out into my community and delved into this place where I have put down a few roots but perhaps not enough.

We were strangers 4 years ago. In Ireland I'm adding
 WWOOFing and maybe Glimpse to the list of crazy
things she's gotten me into. 

     Come to think of it, even this Glimpse program I'm waiting to hear about is something I learned of during a face-to-face conversation with a friend, when I felt like "wasting" time socializing in between classes instead of doing my homework alone. And this friend is somebody who was once a stranger until one of us said hello.
     This lesson is perhaps the most important one I will be taking with me when, a week from today, I get on that plane to begin my five and a half months away from home, far on the other side of the Atlantic in Ireland, surrounded by strangers. I cannot wait to meet them.