That mission was accomplished, but with an interesting twist of events. As I sat enmeshed in my travel-centric bubble, an elderly gentleman with a walker approached the leather armchair next to me and claimed the spot. Every once in a while I could hear him emit an effortful grunt as he repositioned or a small burp as he drank his coffee. As soon as he said, "Excuse me, Miss?", I knew he was talking to me.
He wanted to know if I was taking a trip to Puerto Rico. When I affirmed, he began to draw out a slow sequence of thoughts on places he thought I might enjoy. As he tried to describe the forest to me, I mentioned that I had been to Costa Rica. I think that's when he decided I was a kindred spirit.
I soon learned that he had also been to Costa Rica and that he really loved the vibrancy of Rio. There was a touch of emotion in his voice and gaze when he commented on his connection to time spent in the Amazon. I listened attentively until we both lapsed back into our books.
When it came time to leave, I made eye contact and smiled, intending to tell him to have a good evening. But he had one more nugget for me. He told me that if I ever found someone to travel with me, I should make a point to fly into Cuzco and make my way to Machu Picchu. I assured him that this was already on my bucket list and we bade one another farewell.
In the same moment, I felt both sad and affirmed. It struck me that his adventuring days were over, although not by choice. I didn't want to think about the fact that this infatuation of mine can come to any end. On the other hand, his passion was still so palpable as he spoke and overflowed with a need to share.
I'm already like that now; I imagine that maybe some day when I'm approaching 80 years old, I'll be just as eager to throw my two cents in the mix. Although by then there may be no such thing as book stores as a locale for my conversation starter. That's another sad thought that I won't dare tread on right now.
Post a Comment