Strangers

"I couldn't help but think to myself, just how much I love strangers sometimes."

A house has been left in my care for this past week. When I stopped by today I received quite the shock; there was a truck and trailer in the driveway, the garage was open and a man was walking around in the yard.

I wasn't sure what to do.

I walked slowly up the driveway with the mail and accidently scared the daylights out of him. I said hello and I introduced myself as the person watching the house. He said hello and introduced himself as the guy working on the house. I laughed and said it was nice to meet him. He returned the gesture.

I decided he was potentially harmless and went inside with lunch I had brought. I thought about how cold he'd looked working out there. I remembered how my mom used to make lemonade and bring it out to the guys who worked on our roof during the summer. I dug through the pantry till I found hot chocolate mix, whipped up a big glass, and took it out to him.

He looked shocked, but took it and thanked me. He took a big gulp, re-thanked me, and went back to work.

I went back inside. While I was feeding the pets I thought about how he might be lonely working outside by himself and decided I'd shovel the driveway again and give him some company.

I put all my gear on and went outside. I shoveled in silence for a little while, until he came back around to the front of the house. He laughed at me and said I was going a little above the call of duty. I l told him I was just trying to do a good job. We got to talking while we worked.

People cease to amaze me.

His name was Steve; he said it was an old-fashioned name because nobody is named Steve anymore. He's on his second failed marriage; both times his wives cheated him on. One wife was a traveling salesmen, and he told me that's the number one career known for un-faithful spouses.

He stopped at one point, he looked really embarrassed and said it was weird to talk with a complete stranger about something so personal, but also that people had told him talking about it would help. I told him that I didn't mind listening, and that sometimes complete strangers are the best people to talk to simply because they've no right to judge you and they don't know who you are.

He considered this and went on.

He finds himself now a single dad with two sons, one nineteen years old, and one eleven. He moved back to the cities to be around family for the support during the divorce. He had lived in Hawaii when he was nineteen, and said that he hates the cold so much that he has no idea why he ever moved back.

"Stay in school," he told me. He dropped out and became a carpenter, and he regrets it now. He likes knowing how to do all different kinds of things though, and when he is sent to a job they don't even tell him what it is he will be doing till he gets there.

I told him my plans for the future, how I wanted to go into interior design and architecture. For a little while he even let me follow him around. He showed me what he was doing on the house and how it all worked with the electric boxes and bricks. It was cool to shadow someone who works by hand with the things you may one day be designing.

He kept telling me I was going over the top taking care of the house. And when I started scraping off the car in the driveway he just shook his head and laughed. I explained my situation and how I was trying to kind of impress the people whose house I was looking after. How I figured going over and above the job given sometimes does the trick.

I stayed out there while he was packing up the trailer, fiddling with things in the garage till he was done. I wanted to give him a proper goodbye.

"Well Aimee, it was very nice to meet you."

I shook his hand and said it was nice to meet him too. He told me I shouldn't try so hard to impress people, that he thought I had a "good heart," and that I'd go far in life just being me.

I told him that I hoped everything going on in his life would get better; he said he believed it would all pan-out eventually.

Then, he got in his truck, and began backing out. I took his empty hot chocolate cup and headed inside. I couldn't help but think to myself, just how much I love strangers sometimes.

I don't think people understand my reasoning for wanting to be a bartender. I want to be the girl in the old movies that hands a beer to a customer and asks him why he looks so down. I want to lean with my elbows on the counter in my band T-shirt and my face in my hands and listen as he tells me his stories. I love being that person, that just listens without giving advice no one plans on following. Because sometimes advice isn't what people want. And half the time they wont follow it anyways. 

They just want somebody to listen to them. Without judging who they are. And today just further confirmed that desire. I never mentioned those plans to Steve, but I feel he'd have understood during our chat this afternoon.  It's funny, how a complete stranger can se more promise in you, and believe in you more than those that you've known your whole life.  The ones you expect that 'support' from. 

An afternoon well spent.