Last week at the library and immediately after at the playground, I got to talking to another mom. I tend toward the quiet introvert type, so I don’t often strike up a conversation. My husband can’t get through a simple retail transaction without a full-blown conversation ensuing while I could go weeks without one if pressed. Meeting new people is not my strong suit, but after seeing this woman in not one but two places in a short span, I started chatting.
She was a young, pregnant mom, new to the area. We found some similar interests and common experiences and had a good conversation. Eventually it was time for me to corral my kids and for her to get to a prenatal appointment. We each went our separate ways without so much as a goodbye.
And it bugged me.
Here was a young woman in a new town, with a husband who travels a lot for work, suffering through first trimester sickness with a toddler in tow. Oh, how I could relate.
And yet, she didn’t leave my company any better than when she’d met me, other than perhaps to be assured that her experience wasn’t unique. Another mom understood.