When I first moved to Boston, I remember waking up on a perfect sunny Saturday with a lot of exploring ahead of me. I've been in the city for a surprising amount of time now, I know my way around like I've lived here for (almost) forever, and I've met some wonderful people. But that first weekend, contrary to everything that I was used to, I was all on my own for this round of exploring. Growing up where a close friend or family was never far away, this was a bit of a new experience for me.

So I made a plan. I decided there was a city of people around me, and probably a lot of opportunities to meet these people, so I was going to go out and introduce myself.

That afternoon, I wandered through the art market, and learned a bit more about all of the design centers in Boston. I tried a new coffee shop, and gained a new found love for sitting on a park bench and just looking around.

I was sure to bring my notecards with me, and used my nice shady spot to write a few letters to people I wished was sitting on the bench with me. I am a big fan of snail mail, but that is a whole other post. (Stay tuned!)

I looked up from my writing to find an elderly man with a walker. He seemed to notice I was sitting on the bench, and decided to sit on the little chair on his walker instead. That bench definitely had room for two, and I motioned for him to come over.

I can't quite remember who spoke to who first, but I quickly learned that he was from China, and spoke little to no English. It was very interesting how at first it felt so stuck. We both seemed like we could use an afternoon pal, and I wasn't sure how to connect with him through language.

After a few smiles that spoke many more words than we knew how to, we tried to talk about some things that might be recognizable, like family. He told me he had children, and it seemed he was here in Boston with them. I motioned to what a beautiful day it was, and he agreed. His eyes lit up when I taught him the word 'park'. We shared a few conversations, a few smiles that filled in the words we didn't know for each other, and some silent moments enjoying having someone else on the park bench with us.

He got a phone call awhile later, and after hanging up, he turned to me with big eyes and told me it was time for him to go home now. I told him it was very nice to meet him. He took my hand in both of his, and kissed me on the cheek. The smile he had while he slowly walked back to him family was enough to fill you up for the week.

I saw him a few weeks later outside of the post office. He didn't recognize me, and didn't remember the park, but it warmed my heart to see my park bench friend again. When I felt a bit alone that weekend, a stranger on a park bench quickly became a friend, with very little words at all, and that seems like something to remember.