This ran through my mind this week as a woman walked up to me at an event where I was speaking.
Just when I announced that lunch was being served, a woman came striding my direction with a knowing look.
Knowing, as in she knew me. She certainly knew me.
Having led a rather public life, I’ve often found myself in situations where people feel they know me, but I don’t know them.
And my lack of ability to recognize some people often goes beyond that.
Once, years ago, I was out with some girlfriends when a man came over to our table. A mutual friend did the round of courtesy introductions.
“Do you know Jon?” she asked me.
“No, we haven’t met,” I said in all honesty.
“Actually,” he replied, “we used to date.”
True story.
To be fair, when I recalled the faint memory, I remembered it had been a blind date and we went out maybe twice. And to offer full reporting, this man had gained a considerable amount of weight.
Still, this story is a legend in my family and circle of friends.
Which is why on this day, I found myself seizing inside as this woman approached me.
She clearly knew me, and while I couldn’t place her, it felt as if I knew her. Deeper than that, it felt as though my soul knew her.
Have you been in this situation before, Dear Reader? You know, but you really don’t know?
“Daryn,” she broke the tension, reaching out with two arms to hug me.”
“Where are we going with this?” I wondered to myself. “Do I have to fake knowing this hugger?”
“I’m Precious’ sister,” she said.
This single short sentence explained everything.
Precious.
Never has a woman been more aptly named. One of the dearest friends of my life. We both claim the other saved the other’s life during some dark, sad times.
That’s when I understood.
I didn’t know this woman, but I knew this face. Her face. The resemblance to her sister was uncanny.
My soul knew her.
My friend, Precious, moved to the Midwest years ago. She left a career in banking to run a non-profit. She’s truly making the world a better place.
That friend who you don’t see or talk to near enough but is always in your heart? That’s who Precious is.
And here she was standing in front of me.
Or her face on a taller body was.
You can bet I instantly hugged her sister.
I meant every squeeze.
The closest I’ve gotten to hugging my dear friend in years.
This wasn’t an encounter to dread, rather one to cherish.
“We have to take a picture,” I insisted. For her sister. And for me. This is a moment to remember.
Daryn Kagan is the author of the book “Hope Possible: A Network News Anchor’s Thoughts On Losing Her Job, Finding Love, A New Career, And My Dog, Always My Dog.” Email her at Daryn@darynkagan.com.
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