The Lady I've Come to Know

I saw my Lady today. I don't know her name. I only know I really like her and I get a warm fuzzy feeling whenever we talk.

About a lifetime ago I worked for Whole Foods. I worked in the deli getting paid slightly over minimum wage to put potato salad in 1/2 pint containers for rich people who thought I was uneducated. There was this Muslim woman who would come in. She was really nice. I would make sure that I was the one who served her when her number was called. She like the really crusty bits of the turkey meatloaf; the ends that nobody wanted that had little charred bits of ketchup. I always liked serving her.

I transferred to the seafood department (ask me to tell you my story about my Russian Orthodox Priest someday). I hardly saw her after that.

Then I got preggers with Little Miss. After Little Miss was born I would see my Muslim at the doctor's office. We went to the same medical group. She had a baby that was a little bit older than mine.

For a few years I'd see her on the platform of the Muni. She took one train, I took another. We would talk. I would often let my train pass so I could talk to her while she was waiting for her train.

A few years later I was at our medical group getting an MRI. My Muslim was in the waiting room. Her kid was getting an MRI. She was talking to a woman. Then my Muslim went to be with her son, but not before giving the lady a hug. I asked the lady if she knew my Muslim. She said she didn't. It was the first time they had ever spoken. I told her that I'd been running into my Muslim off and on for the last 4 years and that every time I spoke with her I felt nice. She was a nice person. The lady thought for a second then said she felt nice too and hoped she would run into her again.

I saw her a few times on the muni platform after that. I hadn't seen her for a very long time. It's been about 5 years since I've seen her, and more than 10 years since the first time we met.
I was driving down the street today going home from picking up some cheese for Little Miss (another story for another time). My Muslim was standing on the corner at the busstop waiting for her bus.

I hope to run into her again soon. I'd like to tell her that I am always happy after I run into her. I don't even know her name.