Connection

Our last morning was cold and windy in San Diego. We were visiting for Spring break, having loaded up my daughter, her best friend, our dog and, of course, my husband and I for the trip. That final morning, I waited to walk my dog thinking the sound I heard was rain, but it was, in fact, the wind blowing the tropical foliage surrounding the area. We walked out to the bridge, then turned around to head back to the hotel. I don't deal well with cold and had bundled up in a hoodie and rain slicker over my shirt to try and keep the wind and chill at bay.

As we returned to the hotel, I glanced back and saw a woman jogging toward us. She asked if she could pet my dog. Unsurprised (San Diego is very dog friendly) I stopped and encouraged my dog Brody to "go say hi" to his new friend. I didn't ask her name, but she told me she had had a black pug.
She inquired about my boys age and health, told me Brody looked a lot like her dog, and asked if she could take a picture with him. Brody was feeling camera shy and she said, "maybe we are just supposed to have this moment."

As she pet and loved on him, I noticed she began to well up, doing her best to keep the tears at bay.
I felt certain her loss was recent and I was emotional flashing back on my own loss of both people and pugs. I am not a natural hugger. It was not something my family did growing up and I only came to tolerating advances of this kind through theater and dance (those people are serious huggers!). At an event, after being hugged by my husbands employers, a co-worker claimed, "I'm not a hugger". To which I replied, "I'm not an initiator" and that sums it up. I have learned to accept and return a hug but I'm not inclined to start the process.

Imagine my surprise, while witnessing this stranger reaching for my pug and tearing up, hearing my own voice asking if I could give her a hug? She said. "yes" and I embraced her, rubbing her back and letting her know that I understood. I felt my own eyes well with tears and thought about how hard it is to lose a furry friend. We talk about unconditional love, but I'm not sure humans are capable of it. Maybe it's anthropomorphism, but pets seem to have a lock on love without limits.

And so, there we were. She in her grief and I, stepping outside my comfort zone, sharing a moment.
I don't know what brought us together on a cold, windy morning in San Diego, but it was definitely one of those memorable moments that defy explanation. Because of a silly, snub-nosed lad, we shared a moment of empathy and connection.

Is there a lesson? Perhaps it's the old notion of having more in common than not. In a world that seems to remind us of our differences and a population that notices those differences rather than the similarities, this was special. I have shared this story on two separate occasions and felt emotional both times. I guess I still feel the bittersweet connection of love and loss. Maybe that is the lesson. Or maybe it is about challenging your boundaries. Stepping outside of your comfort zone is definitely uncomfortable, but it's a risk worth taking and one I hope to take again.