The other day, I was grabbing a coffee with a mom friend of mine. I got into a conversation with the woman behind the counter about eyewear: contacts versus glasses, bifocals, the cost of all this, etc. The barista had a lot to say, and she had a method she had discovered for stretching her one-a-day contact prescription while she waited for her doctor to prescribe her new ones. It was all kind of interesting as I waited for my iced coffee, and I enjoyed listening to her excitement – even if I never use her contact cleaning method. 

When I turned back to my friend, who was already sipping her iced coffee, she smiled and said, “You are SUCH a friendly person.” 

I guess she is right. I just got home from the grocery store where I held up the line because I was asking the gentleman who bagged my groceries a bunch of questions about his homemade pizza recipe. 

I haven’t met many people who aren’t great conversation partners. Some people are talkative, some are quiet. Some are funny, some are serious, and some are really, really sad. But everyone has a story to tell – if you are willing to really listen. Sometimes I listen with my ears, sometimes I listen with my eyes. Even when people don’t say much, they are telling me something. 

I have always loved small talk with strangers. It’s one of the little joys of life that makes me happy to be out in public, even when I have a million things to do at home or work. 

I will admit, I have days where I am not interested in talking because I’m angry or stressed, or really just want to get home so I have enough time to watch YouTube videos before my daughter gets home. I’ll wear my hat a little lower, or refrain from making eye contact with anyone. If you have ever spied me in this mode, please know it’s nothing personal – I’ve just had enough talking for the day. 

But conversation with a stranger can be as much of a learning experience as a visit to a museum or as much of an adventure as a vacation in a new country. I have sometimes been privy to some of the most personal details of a stranger’s life, just because I stopped to talk to them. Are they an over-sharer in general, or just saw something in my face that they trusted? I don’t know, but it happens to me often enough that I think the trick is just…listening. 

Speaking with someone I don’t know well, or don’t know at all, is like walking through a portal to a different storyline (where I am not the main character – maybe not even an extra) and having an opportunity to understand and even love a perspective that is so different from my own.

Apparently someone’s even written a book about this (I am just learning this now as I type). And this book which is blurbed as “meticulously researched and buoyantly written” comes to the same conclusion:

“The arrival of a stranger breaks up the eternal recurrence of daily events and opens the door to the extraordinary.”

When I worked in a downtown area, there was an older man who I used to see everyday. He hung out on his scooter with a few other men outside of a bank. I said hi to him every day, and then started having longer conversations. Once in a while, I would grab a seat and we would talk about this or that. Sometimes, he had a bag of lychee or tamarind candies that he always offered to share. He had a heavy accent, and we didn’t always have the words to speak perfectly to each other, but we figured things out. He was happy to see me and tell me a new story. I loved running into him on my way to the bank or other errands and sharing stories. 

One day, after I hadn’t seen him for several weeks, he told me he was feeling bad, that he had cancer. The last time I saw him, he had lost a significant amount of weight, and the lines in his face were deeper, but he still smiled, he held my hand warmly, we still talked about our plans for the weekend. I hope he enjoyed his. 

I remember he told me his name was Estoy, which I said back to him a few times, to make sure I heard him right. It was not a name I had heard before. All these years later (I am not very good at Spanish) I realize Estoy means “I am.” 

That is the thing about having little talks with strangers, and some of them becoming friends. Talking with someone reminds me that “I am” and that “you are” as well. We are not some faceless group of people who hate each other or have nothing in common – not even close. We are soft creatures who want to trade recipes, share our snacks, ask each other questions, and give advice from our own experience. We want someone to see us in our successes, and in our suffering. We want to know that we are. 

Listening to someone is the easiest and most joyful way I have ever made someone feel like they matter. And if you have ever wondered if you were an important part of someone else’s life, if you can remember listening to them, then you were.