Several weeks have passed since I met Jennifer, a CTA employee who walked with me to the Metra Station when the Red Line was stopped. On the day we walked to the train, she mentioned that she works every weeknight, and that “we may see each other.” Since then, I was looking for her, but I never saw her again, until a week ago. It was Wednesday again, and I was running late. Actually, I was hoping to catch the previous CTA train, not realizing that it had already left. And it was when I ran into the station that I heard Jennifer’s voice from the corner. I yelled Hi, and rushed to the platform, but when I got up, I realized that I was late and had to wait for the next train. I thought of going back down, but then I saw Jennifer walking toward me on the platform.

We hugged, and Jenifer said: I was just telling my co-worker that you were like a ghost – I saw you once, and then you disappeared! We got on a train, sat across from each other, and kept chatting all the way. Jennifer even decided to switch to the Brown line at Fullerton instead of at Belmont. I can only imagine what other passengers could think of us, but we really enjoyed our conversation. At some point, I mentioned my mom and how we try to keep her living independently as long as possible, and I asked her how old her mom was, to which she replied that her mom died when she was nine. “But that’s ok, I had other women in my life,” she added.

I cursed myself for being an idiot and asking such questions, while she continued, “Still, nobody I know lived as long as your mom. All the people around me would pass away in their sixties or seventies.” I won’t describe everything I thought and felt during this conversation; it’s not something new or unknown to me. You just never know when it strikes.