Over winter break, my family was in New York City. Crowded with holiday revelers, New York is a wonder. On this trip, the universe threw me a moment, a connection.


Through the glowing windows,
The Strand bookstore looked packed.
Shoppers searching for gifts
to bestow on loved ones,
wrapped in tinsel and crinkly paper.

Biting cold
on a late December eve,
made the claustrophobic scene
almost inviting.

Skirting around strangers,
I settled at the staff favorites table –
books in a kaleidoscope of colors
stacked high in piles,
allowing shoppers to grab several titles
at once.

In my hand,
a hefty paperback offering tales from India.
“Remarkable!”
came a bubbly voice to my left.
Startled, I mumbled I heard great things.
“Have you tried this one?”
She held up a fast-paced thriller
I too had loved.
“Yes!” I exulted.
Reaching in front of her,
I scooped up another title
from the beach of books.
“Well, you must try this one.
History, family intrigue,
I know you will love it!”

We paused —
complete strangers,
now sharing treasures
with assured confidence,
we knew each other.

In the pause,
I could imagine the recipes we traded,
the afternoons spent watching our children play ball,
chatting in book club
or crying over a lost loved one.

We both grinned,
“Happy holidays”
as the universe tugged up back
into our own orbits,
each quietly contemplating
the possibilities.