As I reflected upon yesterday, the highlight reel included knowing the first three people who walked into the Boardroom for a meeting; being connected through my small town school-mates to the two obituary notices posted at the Post Office; mentioning this connection to the Post Office clerk and through an offhanded comment I made, she put together the fact that she knows my sister and taught her kids.
I was walking back to work after lunch and the people I met on the street greeted me enthusiastically as we spoke of the direction of the wind at that particular moment.
While I was helping someone at work, I recognized the name of the venue he has taken over and rejuvinated. I mentioned I had just bought some tickets to the premier performance. He appeared genuinely interested and excited to meet the person-whose-name-he-didn't-recognize, who bought tickets online, for this event.
One of the first residents who made a lasting impression on me was someone I met at the Town Office. We bonded over her cat's collar a few girls found and turned in. We have met up several times since then so when she came in again yesterday, it felt good to recognize her. I may remember her more than she remembers me. I reminded her of our first conversation and she twinkled and shone just a little bit over her vague recollection (the cat collar will forever be the point of reference to remind her who I am) and seemed pleased to be remembered.
Small talk is not one of my favorite things. I try oh-so-hard not to use the worn out phrases that fall off people's tongues without thought. Yet in both my jobs, I'm in a position where small talk is simply part of the job. As I was retelling a few of the stories about some of the memorable moments of conversation that have been struck up as I do my job, I commented "I don't like small talk - I like medium talk."
When I first moved back to my Province of Birth, I knew I didn't want to live in a location where people knew my sisters or my family. I could never live up to their reputation. I was embarrassed to simply be "me".
I now live in a town where the vast majority of people I encounter know my sister or my family. I have grown into myself and I am pleased when people recognize my family. It's taken thirty six years, but I've finally grown into my name.
It feels good to be seen and remembered. It feels even better to be in a position where I can pass along that gift. The gift of remembering a small piece of another's story.
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