A Cafe Conversation

Befriending a Stranger

Today I sat in a coffee shop in Colorado and talked to a man from Australia. We were complete strangers a couple hours ago, and now if I ever saw him again I would greet him like an old friend. I would ask him about his children, his wife and I would hope he found a home in which he was happy. I would recognize his pale blue eyes, the deep lines of innumerable, honest smiles that crease the sides of them and the thick, black and silver hair that surrounds his face and which he tugs at lightly when he is deep in thought. I may even recognize his penmanship, a note scribbled on the back of his notebook as he walked, reminding him that in the weeds there are flowers and from forges come creations even more valuable than what went in. I would note the swirling loops of cursive mixed with the straight and neat lines of print.

I will remember his childhood story of moving to a rural part of Australia when he was young, having no warning from his parents, and everyone staring at them because they were some of the first outsiders to move there. How they did so well on the cherry fields that year they began building a home, just to have drought dry up their field and money in the early 80’s. How he climbed a ladder to the second floor of their home until they could afford wood to build stairs. I will remember that he started out in conservation, wanting to make our planet better. That after ages of being wronged by the work place and living to work, he is now making the painful transition for him and his family to work to live, figuring out what that life looks like and where it geographically fits best.

I will forever remember him starting the conversation believing me, like so many do, to be an overly optimistic 20 something year old in a coffee shop. A title not entirely false, but one that regularly limits perceptions of me. How by the end he honored me by saying that I had changed his mind, both on me and his perceptions of his own situation at the time. I will forever cherish how we bonded over recognizing these sorts of honest conversations are a rarity in our world, and that is truly a shame. We knew when we parted ways we would have to lock away these deeper levels of ourselves and put our masks back on in order to function seamlessly in society. Sharing in the bizarre concept that we have to somehow teach our children to be honest people and to wear masks in the different settings of our world to succeed. I would add now, this thing children naturally learn and pick up on from watching us is exactly why these conversations are so rare, and why truly authentic individuals are so valued and magnetic in their nature.

I cannot tell you his name, because I’ve only just realized I don’t know it. We talked about life choices, hindsight, depression, what feels like home, how choices ripple through our futures and effect so many we love, what makes the difference between cynicism and realism, how to raise children or love others the best we can just to make choices that make our hearts ache for them, but somehow, never got as far as our names. And in the end there was no pretense of maintaining the relationship, we recognized the liberation of just such encounters is that we will never see each other again. We, as good people who want so much to help others, have no further responsibility for this other human. We had a wonderful conversation that we will forever think fondly of, that has shaped and shifted our thoughts and directions for each other, and now it’s done. Our hands are clean, our paths parted, and we will forever wish the best for this stranger whose name we don’t even know.

The most fruitful things I think he shared with me, is the struggle as a father to do your best for your children and then to know so painfully how much your decisions make them sad. As a man, the responsibility you feel to your family is to provide and keep them safe. As a husband, the balance of not wanting to worry or burden his wife but knowing the importance of communication. He feels his bitterness is warranted because it is backed by experience and yet he recognizes it doesn’t serve him, and is struggling with how to move forward with that.

Paraphrased Snippets That Stuck With Me:

There are three sides to every story, your side, my side and the truth.

In an international marriage, we had no idea how much one of us would always be without.

My parents will likely die without me there, and that will be that… but I can be secure in knowing they are safe, at home in their community, happy and well cared for.

When making a life together, greatly consider your geography and the balance of family for both of you.

Before having children, besides the obvious stuff, have your five values. The things that will act as your pillars and foundation going forward. Something you can revisit and find strength in when needed.

It was fascinating, then heartbreaking, to hear my son’s wrap up of his elementary school years from his point of view. Then to hear him finish with he doesn’t want to move again, knowing that I am contemplating exactly that.

I never recovered from that, we moved just as I started making my first real best friend and I never fully felt like I fit in or belonged again. When my son tells me he feels like he’s always at the bottom rung in these new schools, I connect with that and my heart aches for him.

My son is to the point where he wonders what the point is in getting to know people if we are just going to move again. I have to live with the knowledge that he will forever struggle and need help in connecting with others.

My therapist told me to write, and to rip it up when I’m done, just to get everything out. If I took it seriously, I would notice changes in myself. I have. By day three I noticed my mind was quieter, and now in light of everything here I am writing pages and pages again. (I told him it will quiet again, that journaling is one of the best things we can do for ourselves.)

Everyone has been effected by suicide in some way, having known someone or contemplated it themselves. For my wife and I, it is both.

My wife said she was afraid she would be coming home to a body. I was only venting, and to think I had the power to put such awful thoughts in her head and so much weight on her shoulders, it made me sad.

I believe I acted with integrity, and yet now I question if that was the right decision because it has only hurt my family and I. I have nearly 30 years on you, I have to question now if acting in integrity is always the best choice.

Conversations like this ground me and make me grateful for my circumstances and the unique experiences of others.

I approach everyone I meet this openly and find 8/10 times they reciprocate… though sometimes, like now, that honesty gets me in trouble.

I love conversations with strangers that would take 10 years to work up to if we were part of each other’s lives.

I always hate this part, where after some reflection I have so many more things to say. Questions for him and advice I hope would help. For example, I can’t imagine with him as a father his children won’t be able to see the value in connecting with others, even if they will never see them again.

I don’t know what exactly I offered him or how I might have changed his perceptions, but I hope it was fruitful. I did my best and bid him goodbye, wishing him all the love and happiness in the world. I can only hope he finds this one day in a happier, more peaceful place in his life and knows two of the three sides to our story.

This conversation reminded me why I wanted to travel in the first place. To meet extraordinary, everyday people. If that is the only stranger we talk to and connect with, it was worth the hundreds of miles we’ve traveled to be right here, right now, at the same time as him.

This was originally posted on my Medium account: https://medium.com/@selena.shandi.thomas/a-cafe-conversation-d70fb85192d6