I stopped at Larz Anderson Park briefly yesterday. The sun was already high, so my expectations of great pictures were low. But this mother and child isolated at the crest of the hill caught my attention. I waited. I watched. I listened. My heart nearly burst open at the sight of them wiggling their two butts into a tiny plastic saucer made for one small butt. They embraced tightly and began the descent. Squeals of joy pierced the cold morning air; they coasted to a safe landing and nearly melted into a puddle of joyful giggles. My day was made.
It was not until this moment, as I edit and upload these pictures that I realize I had met this woman just a week earlier. The morning after last week's fresh snowfall I went to the park to take some snowscape pictures. A woman of Asian descent kept a close eye on me, hovering a bit too close. I began to feel uncomfortable. She clearly had something on her mind, so I said hello through my mask. Her English was choppy. Our mouths were covered with masks. The wind was blowing. My poor hearing was further challenged by a thick wool hat. But we found a way to muddle through a conversation. She wanted to know if this would be good snow for sledding. Was it fast? Would it be safe? Not too fast? She planned to bring her son back - he had never seen snow and she had never been on a sled. I assured her this was the place for them. I wished her well with smiling eyes; she bowed her head in gratitude several times; we parted company. I thought little of it until now.
What are the odds...that our paths would overlap again for these 15 minutes....for the moment she carefully planned. I do not know if she realized I was the same guy with the camera she had met a week earlier. Only when Dewey, looking over my shoulder, asked if she was Asian.... "I have no idea....I didn't really notice...." I blew the image up and recognized her immediately. Random moments of Grace. My cup runneth over.