Hello Stranger

by Katherine Center

I had no idea what to make of this guy. Was he being sarcastic or serious? Was he handsome or generic? Was he kind to help or too pushy? Was he flirting with me or being a pain? Had he already won me over, or did I still have a choice?

And then she’d have tightened her arms around me so I’d know for sure I wasn’t alone. Because that was the most essential thing about my mom. She couldn’t always fix things for me, but she was always there. Until the day she wasn’t.

Mom’s are the best

Dogs were so good at forgiveness.

All to say, something about the feel of him—the softness of his fur, his salty, doggy smell, the unconditional love—made me start to cry right there in the waiting room.

There’s nothing more sweet and comforting than this 🤎

It was love at first sight—and I couldn’t even see him. Okay, I take it back. It wasn’t love. Love requires actually having spoken to a person. At the minimum.

Me too girl

“You’re very in your head,” she said. “I’d like to see you dip into your heart.” “I like it in my head.” “But that’s not really where we live.”

I was not letting this dog die. I was not losing the only person who loved me.

But doing something nice for a stranger made me feel better.

“Maybe you need to let go of winning. Maybe there are all kinds of ways to win. Maybe it’s a chance for you to make your own set of rules.”

“But…” I didn’t fully understand what was happening. “You saved it.” “Yes,” Lucinda said, her voice softer. “Why?” I asked. “Because it was your mother’s.” My eyes filled with tears at those words. “I never told you that.” “You didn’t have to.”

By the end of the appointment, the student and Dr. Addison agreed: Peanut was just about the healthiest elderly dog either of them had ever seen. “Must be all that pad Thai,” Dr. Addison said,

Oh, and I googled “Why men don’t text you back.” But it wasn’t very helpful.

But I guess that’s the great thing about life—it gives you chance after chance to rethink it all. Who you want to be. How you want to live. What really matters.

“You just have to blame me for everything.” “I don’t blame you for everything. You actually do everything.”

Then my dad pulled me into a hug, and I could feel that he was crying.

If there was anyone on this earth who was not put off by neediness, it was Joe. He had a superpower for seeing me at my worst—and not turning away. No wonder I’d fallen in love with him.

“You never dumped me,” Joe said in amazement as it sank in. Then, correcting: “I mean, you did dump me. But you dumped me … for me.”

“How is it possible,” I said, gazing at the sight of him in wonder, “that you were everywhere? All along?” Joe shrugged. “You can’t see when you’re not looking, I guess.”

Who’s cutting onions