I am open and at peace, eating outside alone and enjoying all that it offers.

I’m working back in my hometown and filled with the joy of its possibilities.

I was enjoying breakfast at Pastores Brunch, sitting in the sun and admiring Lincoln Square, even with the construction.

A friend I haven’t seen in many visits, despite her being around the corner, happpened to walk by and she sat with me and we talked deeply, freely, and passionately for half an hour.

Two more people came by, but we remained and talked about our feelings of isolation and our beautiful moments of connection and community.

I have lamented my own isolation since moving, but here was someone who was feeling it IN the city because of her studies. We saw one another and lifted the other up in ways we didn’t know we needed.

It might be the recent timing, but Chicago is always a big small town where I run into people. And this one was special. She’s about to go on a retreat to learn herbal medicine from farmers and foragers and scientists, and I’m on a totally different path. Yet here we were, talking about healing and rebirth and death and isolation and the importance of community and perseverance. She showed me her goosebumps. I showed her my happy tears.