Every evening he sat alone. His eyes focused on the plate in front of him. Slowly, he ate bite after bite. Alone. No television, no book to read, no dinner guests, just total concentration on his meal. Every evening alone. I watched this night after night. I was living in the townhouse I purchased after my recent divorce. My backyard was just big enough for my little dog, Yogee, but not big enough to allow much distance between my window and the window of my neighbor. It wasn’t like I was nose-pressed-to-the-window watching him. But, at times, it was almost that intriguing to me. I could see him through the slats of my blinds while I cooked my dinner, played with Yogee, and watched TV. And I wondered. I wondered what his story was. Did he have family? What did he do for work? How old was he? How many years had he been alone with his dinner and his thoughts? And what were his thoughts? I lived there for 10 years and never spoke to him. The tall wooden privacy fence that divided our yards was not conducive to neighbor-to-neighbor conversations. His home sat just a little higher than mine, so the angle looking up through my window created a clear view of his dining table. I felt sorry for him. I was living alone for the first time in my life, but I had a job I loved, a nice home, family and friends, and I had Yogee. My perception was that he didn’t have any of those things. I thought he must have been terribly lonely. I moved from that home over 15 years ago, but I still wonder about him. I wonder if he still lives there. I wonder if he ever got a dog. I wonder if he still eats dinner alone. I wonder why I never walked around the block to the front of his house to say hi. I wonder why I was so intrigued by him. I wonder why I made up stories in my head about his life. The reality is, maybe he was happy. Maybe he loved his peace and solitude. Maybe he had a family and a job he loved. And maybe he loved eating dinner alone. I also wonder how many times in life I have missed the opportunity to find out the real story. How many times have I missed the opportunity to meet someone and talk to them about their life? How many times have I made up stories in my head, creatively filling in the blanks of information I didn’t know? The answer is probably - many. It is easier for us to allow our minds to make up stories about people than it is to take the time to get to know them and hear their real story. It is a shame, really. Think about how many people you interact with in a day. How many people do you pass by when you take your daily walk? How many times do you go through the checkout line at the grocery store, buy a coffee at a coffee shop, have a dental or medical appointment, read a friend’s social media post, or sit in a large room at a conference? Out of all of those opportunities, did you take the time to interact or talk to someone, learn about their life, and hear their story? It is easier to rush through our day, keeping all the people we pass as strangers. We might observe them long enough to judge them or create a story about them in our mind, but it ends there. Once in a while, the person stays in our mind for years, and we continue to wonder… and wish we had not missed the opportunity. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Never miss the opportunity to meet someone new and listen to their story. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: [email protected]. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2025 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information. #CornerofSpiritandBrave #LoveYourLifeNoMatterWhat #JourneyThrough #PennieHunt #IAmGoodEnough #grief #Love #Joy #HowToBeHappy #Happiness
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