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Terri


"Hi, I'm Theresa."

She greeted me with the ease and effortless polish only a seasoned professional can summon.

Around us buzzed a smooth swarm of high-energy movers and shakers from the local business community — a sea of shiny teeth, firm handshakes, expensive suits and freshly applied makeup. Business cards were flying faster than Black Jack cards in Vegas. There was laughter, and schmoozing, and socializing-with-a-purpose. People seemed happy to be together, but happier still to be connecting professionally.

I, on the other hand, was at the wrong end of a long, exhausting day. I had searched in vain for 30 minutes to find a parking space before finally settling on a spot just a stone's throw from outer Mongolia. With more theatrics than necessary, I schlepped my camera gear across rows of vehicles that belonged to much luckier drivers than I, trudged past the valet parking drop-off, and limped into the restaurant. I hadn't seen my makeup bag in 12 hours.

No matter. I wasn't there to get a date. I was there to shoot photos, take names and ask for quotes.

"Hi, I'm Theresa," she said again, smiling. "You look so familiar to me, but I can't think why."

I laughed and said, "Everyone looks familiar to me these days, too. Either it's my age or it's because I meet so many people..."

We joked about the age thing — we were both born around the same time. Then it happened.

(Beat.) Light bulb. Gasp. Instant recognition. Teenager-sounding squeals. Tidal wave of memories.

She wasn't Theresa, she was TERRI! We had graduated high school together in 1973, and though we weren't necessarily BFFs during those years, we were definitely friends. The sense of relief (is that the word?) that washed over me caught me completely off guard.

No, it wasn't one of those awkward, will-this-ever-end conversations. Terri was warm, genuine, real, and open. She asked meaningful questions and listened for answers. We caught up on each other's lives in a matter of sentences, and picked up as if we were both 17 again. (Do the math — that's an impressive four-decade leap.)

The strange thing is, even in the thicket of business buzz, we didn't exchange superficial chat. Instead we shared, in a few short minutes, the real stuff of life. We had common history, common experience, and had logged an equal number of years on this planet. And it felt good to talk to someone who "knew." I left, a different person from when I arrived.

 I don't know if I'll see Terri again — I'm a class reunion-hater and it's unlikely I'll go to the one scheduled later this summer. But I'm so glad I stumbled back upon that very classy dame. I'm so proud of who she is, and was, and will continue to become. And I'm so grateful for what she added to my night and to my life.

What a nice surprise, and in the unlikeliest of places. But isn't that, after all, where all the best surprises seem to be?
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