I follow many inspiring pages on Facebook. One of them is SimpleReminders.com
Please check them out and find inspiration when you need it...often when you don't even realize you need it, it presents itself to you.
Today one of their posts caught my attention. It was a quote by an author I truly love. And it brought me back to a time I remember fondly. Sometimes in this journey through cancer and all that cancer brings like stress, depression, anxiety etc. it's good to be able to find a way to experience a little positivity, joy and heart-filling love. So I want to share a little story that brought me that love today.
First the quote that started it all.
Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.
—Leo F. Buscaglia
Now The Memory that brought me joy and happiness this morning because of that posting on Simple Reminders.
I have always been a believer in things like destiny, fate, and serendipity. I love the way
the universe works and the stars align to bring us to the people and places we
need to meet or be. I have countless
stories of these phenomenons happening in my life and I keep them close to my
heart. Here is one story.
It was 1995, I was living outside Philadelphia. My close friend and I were on our way to Boston for the weekend just for fun. The weather was pretty bad. Rain, thunder, lightening. So bad that the airline cancelled our flight. So we gathered our luggage and got back on the train to head home to Chester Springs.
While waiting for our train at 30th Street Station my friend and I were approached by a woman approximately 20 years our senior. It was very late at night so there were not many people waiting for the train. We were cautious girls, having lived there for some time. Always kept our eyes peeled for trouble. Anyhow, She saw our luggage and the tags to Boston on them. She assumed we had just arrived from there and wanted to say hello to someone she thought was a fellow Bostonian.
We then explained our plight with humor. Our attempt to go but alas the weather was not cooperating. We always said there must be a reason we are being redirected in some way. Perhaps we were not meant to take that flight that night. Perhaps we didn't need to be in Boston that weekend.
The woman took up conversation with us and even sat next to us on the train. She had come down from Boston to visit her lover, an Italian man. We could tell she was very excited to see him. A sort of rendezvous. She was magnetic and a little mysterious in an attractive way and I knew before the train ride was over it would not be the last time we saw her.
We must have talked and laughed the whole way until her stop that she almost missed it. As she was getting her luggage, she handed us her card and said, "My name is Peggy. If you ever do make it to Boston, call me and you'll have a place to stay."
A few months later my friend and I actually made the call. She hadn't forgotten us. So we made our plans. She picked us up at the bus station and we headed to East Sandwich where she lived in this beautiful Saltbox house near the ocean. It was weathered by the the salt air and the interior was like a curious bookstore. She was in fact a writer.
That weekend the three of us ate, we drank, we talked nonstop and while doing so I perused her bookshelves and found a little red book called "LOVE" by Leo Buscaglia. I began reading it and fell in love with his descriptions and thoughts about Love. I also loved his name because all weekend Peggy has been practicing her Italian for her Italian lover. So saying Buscaglia was fanciful and fun to practice rolling off my tongue.
She taught me the word Basta! Which means Enough! To this day I say this when I've had Enough! Especially when I've just had it up to HERE! Basta, Basta, Basta! I exclaim.
We thoroughly enjoyed our stay and her company. She remained our friend for many years after but we've since lost touch. And sadly, Leo Buscaglia died a few years later in 1998. He is my reminder of Peggy.
I'll never forget that night at 30th Street Station.
While waiting for our train at 30th Street Station my friend and I were approached by a woman approximately 20 years our senior. It was very late at night so there were not many people waiting for the train. We were cautious girls, having lived there for some time. Always kept our eyes peeled for trouble. Anyhow, She saw our luggage and the tags to Boston on them. She assumed we had just arrived from there and wanted to say hello to someone she thought was a fellow Bostonian.
We then explained our plight with humor. Our attempt to go but alas the weather was not cooperating. We always said there must be a reason we are being redirected in some way. Perhaps we were not meant to take that flight that night. Perhaps we didn't need to be in Boston that weekend.
The woman took up conversation with us and even sat next to us on the train. She had come down from Boston to visit her lover, an Italian man. We could tell she was very excited to see him. A sort of rendezvous. She was magnetic and a little mysterious in an attractive way and I knew before the train ride was over it would not be the last time we saw her.
We must have talked and laughed the whole way until her stop that she almost missed it. As she was getting her luggage, she handed us her card and said, "My name is Peggy. If you ever do make it to Boston, call me and you'll have a place to stay."
A few months later my friend and I actually made the call. She hadn't forgotten us. So we made our plans. She picked us up at the bus station and we headed to East Sandwich where she lived in this beautiful Saltbox house near the ocean. It was weathered by the the salt air and the interior was like a curious bookstore. She was in fact a writer.
That weekend the three of us ate, we drank, we talked nonstop and while doing so I perused her bookshelves and found a little red book called "LOVE" by Leo Buscaglia. I began reading it and fell in love with his descriptions and thoughts about Love. I also loved his name because all weekend Peggy has been practicing her Italian for her Italian lover. So saying Buscaglia was fanciful and fun to practice rolling off my tongue.
She taught me the word Basta! Which means Enough! To this day I say this when I've had Enough! Especially when I've just had it up to HERE! Basta, Basta, Basta! I exclaim.
We thoroughly enjoyed our stay and her company. She remained our friend for many years after but we've since lost touch. And sadly, Leo Buscaglia died a few years later in 1998. He is my reminder of Peggy.
I'll never forget that night at 30th Street Station.
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| Susi, Peggy, Melissa (me) 1995 |
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