Yesterday I got on a plane to go to Houston, Texas by way of Charlotte, NC. My seat neighbor sat down right behind me and we struck up a conversation.
If she hadn’t been right behind me I would have probably had my headphones in and book open already, but I hadn’t gotten there yet.
She asked what I did for work as I said I was traveling for my job, so we talked about education for a little while. Then we talked about where she was from.
She grew up in the same community as my mom’s side of the family. Went to the same high school as my mom, just a few years after her. Her father was a pharmacist, as was my grandfather. We talked about where they were involved and how neither of us could go anywhere without them knowing someone.
The phrase that always comes up here is “what a small world,” which I don’t feel is completely accurate. We live in a big world where our stories are constantly overlapping and colliding.
No matter where we are, if we sit next to someone long enough we will find some kind of connection. If we try hard enough to get to know someone and are our true selves with them, there will be a bond. It may be over a place, books, a sports team, music, or a common life event.
The world is big but it is full of human beings with stories still unfolding. We are continually writing them and we weave in an out of one another’s with every interaction we have. It’s our choice how connected we want to be.