Soulmate Week, an amateur in Walmart, one last run

Hi friends,

Welcome back to Connect x3, and welcome spring! I hope you enjoy this week's stories — told from Columbus, Ohio/NYC; Lexington, Kentucky; and Memphis, Tennessee and about lessons from Soulmate Week, an unexpected encounter in Walmart, and the last run of the season.

Connect soon,Katie

This week's 3:

Lessons from Soulmate Week:

My trips to Columbus, Ohio don’t normally involve visiting tarot readers but as we passed “Mystic Sisters” on Grandview Ave this past February, we couldn’t resist. Lexi was entering her 34th week of pregnancy and her low-level anxiety for how Baby Boy would fit into their family was on her mind. I was just generally curious about what our new mystic sister might have to tell me.

I sat in the dark room and picked the deck that spoke to me – the love deck. Go figure. Our third-eyed friend tapped the deck and had me say a few words to introduce myself to the other realm. After pulling about 10 cards and a few queries to her rose quartz pendant, I was told with certainty that I would be meeting my soulmate during the third week of March. The universe was specifically saying March 21st but advised me to have an open mind about any time between March 13th and the 21st. In order to make this happen I had to go home to NYC “very soon” and clear space for love in my life and in my home.

I didn’t waste a moment, telling everyone I knew that my soulmate was on the horizon. While I was being pretty sarcastic outwardly, I can’t lie that I was genuinely excited by the prospect. I did as our tarot-reading friend said and cleared space in my home by donating bags of clothes, reorganizing a bit and making sure to dust the bad vibes away.

Finally, March 13th rolled around – Soulmate Week. That night, while at an Alt-J concert at Kings Theater (I was on soulmate watch among all of the Indie millennials), I got a DM from an anonymous Instagram hosted by “one man on a quest for true love.” The message said he saw me on a dating app and just couldn’t wait for me to match with him because I was just so gorgeous and he wanted to take me out. I showed the phone to my best friend and we both giggled and said, “Could this be him?” as if we were in some kind of Disney Channel original movie.

I accepted the DM request and asked a few probing questions including a request for a photo to make sure he wasn’t a recognizable serial killer. Though this was a little unorthodox and honestly he wasn’t really my type, I decided to step out of my comfort zone and go for it in the name of Soulmate Week. We set the date for March 21st, Soulmate Day.

Finally March 21st rolled around and we went out. Long story short, we were not soulmates.

While I didn’t find romantic love, Soulmate Week was not a total bust. I found a different kind of love for myself and an openness to new experiences that I never had before. In the lead-up to Soulmate Week I found myself making eye contact with strangers (just in case), making sure I felt great when I was out and about, and just generally being more open to new interactions like responding to DMs from mysterious Instagram accounts.

Who knows what lies ahead for me in terms of meeting the love of my life. But, until then, I’m pretty content with myself and I think that’s a really great place to be.

- Rosie Izzi, New York, New York

Amateur in Walmart:

I was standing near the exit at Walmart, waiting for others to finish their shopping. I was leaning against a random wall, mindlessly looking at my phone — because I am human and it's Walmart and it's Sunday and I was bored.

Appearing out of nowhere in particular comes a person new to me, with locs and wearing a hoodie, apparently late in their teens and tall enough to look me directly in the eye.

They walked up to me, within just a couple of feet. And they folded their arms and stared at me.

Just. Like. That.

I had about 30 first thoughts, some of which were filled with love and grace; some of which were admittedly not at all Christian; and some of which were primitive, urging flight. My comfort zone had suddenly disappeared and I was not prepared — and I need preparation time for pretty much everything.

I put my phone away and asked, with the best smile and even voice I could muster in that space of peculiarity: “What can I do for you?”

No response. Just crossed arms and the same stare. And an ever so slight movement toward me.

Now it's Walmart, so there are a couple of thousand people around, their standard plodding pace of life quickened a bit by the fact that it was about 30 minutes to tip-off.

I was not afraid, really, but I admit my human imperfections were winning, so I was quite uneasy. There did not appear to be any anger in the eyes of my new companion. Just a deep and somewhat mesmerizing stare.

But it was just so random and in this age of violence, I admittedly had in my mind all those worst-case scenarios.

My anxiety was elevating fairly rapidly as I was scrolling through my mind’s Rolodex for any recognition of the face before me. I got nothing.

I do not know whether it was the great difference between us or the narrow distance between us. But here I was, trying to be calm and loving and resisting the urge to just, you know, run away or react in some other unhealthy way.

So I asked again. Smiling again: "Do you need help with something?"

Still nothing. So I just sustained my smile and tried to keep my eyes kind.

We just stood there staring for what seemed like an hour, but was probably no more than 10 seconds. And all the while, the world of retail continued its uninterrupted chaotic cadence.

And then my companion slowly used their thumb to point over their shoulder toward the cash registers, with just the slightest glance back.

“OK,” I think. “Now we are getting somewhere.”

So I ask: "Do you need help buying something?"

But the only response was for their arms to recross and ever so slightly further close the distance between us.

I was very aware of my breathing and my heart rate, trying to keep both in check. In my periphery no one appears the least bit interested in this nonverbal tête-à-tête — I suspect much more interested in the impending ballgame. It's Walmart in central Kentucky, after all.

I was not at all sure what my next move should be. Or what this kid was about to do.

Time slowed. The cacophonic noise receded.

And then.

And then.

A smile crept ever so slowly to the mouth and to the eyes of the face across from me.

A half step back. A hand extended.

We shake.

And my new friend says: "I am an amateur actor and I like random interactions. I am going to go look around now."

Whewwwwwwwwwwww.

I tried to look unsurprised and nonchalant, but the kid is an actor and I am not. This beautiful soul knew they had me and did not want to embarrass me.

But before we released our handshake, I put my free hand on their shoulder. Those who know me well know I can go into "Dad Mode" pretty quickly. And I could have launched a lecture about how dangerous the world is and how that kind of thing could get this precious kid hurt and the multitude of "what ifs".

Instead, I went Dad Mode the other direction: "What is your name, son?"

And in that instant, I had adeptly caught them slightly off guard. I had them, too.

Their eyes, once unemotional and then suddenly playful, grew moist. After a moment of hesitation, they said "My name is _________."

I responded: "My name is Bill. And you are a fine actor, ________. You be safe."

And they sort of threw themselves forward into one of the most wonderful hugs I have received in quite a while.

I returned the favor, embracing them and placing a hand on the back of their locked hair.

And they returned the favor, placing a hand on the back of my decidedly un-locked head.

And all our superficial differences dissipated.

We closed the distance between us, just a little bit.

Just. Like. That.

In Walmart.

- Bill Swinford, Lexington, Kentucky 

One last run:

Skiing is as close to freedom as power is to the White House.You move, bend one way, poles balance you as you push away, gravity takes you into a powdery descent.As your hair flows under your hat, and cold air blows right up your nostrils, snow adrift, snow enveloping your boots, zig zag you go, down, down, down – breathe, bend, shift your weight left to right, there you GO. Just ski as ski bums do in a dance with the now.

Until you can’t.The bones don’t bend.The twists don’t retract.The cartilage is found missing.Bone to bone,Ache me ache,Momma bring me some hot chocolate,And a book to read byA slow expiring fire.

You got to go now.The weather is turning.Spring and daylight appear in sync.Snow will turn to mush,Mush will turn to greenery,Greenery will turn to hiking trails.As your skis will slide up the attic,Gaining dust until the cold re-appears.

“One last run, honey. This one will be the one.I will zippity do da just like a pro. Up the lift I go.You can’t stop greatness. For I am a pro.One last run, my dear…

“Did you see me crash, roll and roll, skis above ankles, and nose to the snow?Did you see my eyes, big as bowling balls,Look like Fear magnified? As if a moose were chasing me?I can’t believe I tumbled for what felt like miles,As my left ski did not follow my command and became disloyal almost like a petulant child playing in highway traffic…And to think on this last run?Tumble on, like a tumbleweed.Me just blowing in the wind with my bum up in the air, goggles askance,And all my sponsor deals pissing in the wind, as I, the great senior citizen skier,Crashed! Never before has this happened. Never again shall I let it.

“Why even the man to the rescue said, ‘You are such a fine skier I never expectedTo find you sprawled out on the hill face down and jammed like a stick in the mud.’

“Honey, my bum hurts.

“Yeah, I was just getting ready to ask about that, but I was too busy heading up the attic stairs to store away our wintery memories until next season.”

- Dan Haddow, Memphis, Tennessee

Weekly prompt: New seasons

Spring is finally here, and I have felt so grateful for the extra sunlight, warmer temperatures and fresh bounce I've noticed in people's steps. There's something about a new season that always feels so hopeful — and I find myself opening up to new possibilities.

...which leads me to this week's prompt: When have you explored fresh possibilities during a new season, whether in weather or in life? What did you learn from it?

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