I woke up unusually early to go to the gym since my schedule was packed for the rest of the day. As I came to the end of the street where I turn onto the main road I saw two teenage girls standing in the dark morning, waiting for the bus. They stood about 15 feet from each other both in their own space, not taking, just looking at the ground.
And just seeing them tugged at my heart and my first thought was, “just talk to each other, you’re more alike than you know.” Part of me wanted to roll down the window and holler at them to tell them. But it was cold and I knew they’d probably think I was just some crazy lady.
The thin one stood in the chilly air with her cute outfit and perfect ponytail. The heavier one was dressed all in black and her long hair covered part of her face.
I knew those girls. I knew them years ago when I was their age. I could probably read their minds. But teenage telepathy is a dangerous thing.
I wanted them to talk to each other because I bet they had something in common, some same insecurity or crush. Some same need or favorite. Some same something. Maybe they had the same birthday. It could happen. One in 365 are not bad odds, if you ask me.
And who knows, maybe someday they’ll be best friends anyway. They might meet again at a workplace or a Mom’s group. Their babies might have the same colic or reflux or diaper rash tendencies. Maybe they will sit over coffee and commiserate about how badly potty-training is going or the best chicken chili recipe.
Who knows? Certainly they have something in common because well, don’t we all?
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