A man walked into my store today which struck a chord with me. For all the things that I had to do, all the work that had to be done, I paused to look curiously at this man.
He closely resembled a man who crossed my path over thirteen years ago. The anesthesiologist that took care of me when my first child was born. I remember his thin and supple fingers, his calm, quiet tenor words speaking lowly. The content, I can't remember. It's the reassuring tone you use when you're dealing with someone you are afraid will spook at any sudden movements...kind of like a horse trainer, I suppose. He was pale, thin, very tall, and had eyes the color of brilliant aquamarines. They reflected the cold, crystalline blue and picked up grey from the matte steel materials which surrounded us in the procedures.
It's interesting to me how one face, one smell, one pattern or touch can bring to me a hundred flashbulb memories. Some with complete clarity, some a little hazy from the faded photographs time leaves behind in the mind.
Don't know why it was so strongly remembering it, but it was a brilliant moment.