A couple entered the large main room at the Hartness House. Behind them, a woman who had to be close to 90 was in tow. She was small and frail-looking, she said nothing as we spoke with the man and woman with her.
We had just taken a couple of photos of us with our 6-month-old. We explained to the couple that we had just been married in this room 2 years ago in front of the large fireplace. Now we had Liam. He was bright-eyed and ready for everything.
Our conversation was brief and everyone walked around the room admiring its antiquity. As the couple was about to leave, the old woman who was only listening up to this point grabbed my arm with a steel grip that seemed stronger than what I expected. She was close and locked eyes with me. “I envy you!” She said the words pushed with desperate breath. The weight of how she did it was like when someone is being held prisoner and calling for help. It was interesting in the fact that it seemed that she said it so that only she and I could hear it.
They were gone, but she left a crater in my entire life consciousness. It was a warning almost from myself decades later that in reality, those decades would pass like they were only 47 minutes in the future. It was a tale of regret from maybe a woman who had taken more left turns than right ones when she should have. It was the perfect perspective, without the time or the means to ever realize it. I knew for sure, she had taken something for granted in her life and now she could not go back.
It was one of those moments that if this were a science fiction movie, I might wake up as her the next morning and she as me. It was so heavy that I worried a little in the moments after that it could really happen.
One thing I knew, she had given me a great gift. I needed to appreciate what I had right here and right now. This was a kick in the head in which every time I was to get overwhelmed with the things in life that meant nothing, I needed to get my act together. Her desperation made me want to cry.
Tonight was two years since we had started our life together and many fantastic things were happening. There would be many trials to remind me of how good I have it. This woman, who came from nowhere I knew met us on the precipice of our future and told me to get over stuff and to just live. Don’t be an idiot. Be here now. Just shut up and be here. In three words, she still speaks to me today.
It is now 20 years later. Our momentary meeting changed me forever. It made me feel her great regret in a way that would never be possible, and I don’t know how. I have also learned that I did fail to always be where I was, and maybe we all do some of that.
20 years later, I have one regret about that night October 27, 2003. I wish I had asked what her name was. For someone who made such an impact on me, it does not seem right that I don’t even know her name.