Small clouds dotted the calm blue of the sky above me as I sat on a park bench at the corner of Main and Water in Kent, Ohio. Noon - ugh. I still have half hour until they show up, and that is only if they are on time. What else is there to do but sit and enjoy the day and reflect upon the events that had happened to me on the weekend. Perhaps though, the most annoying part of waiting is knowing that I am waiting. With my iPod in my ears playing my Paris cafe album, I glance at my purse and realize that I probably have something in my bag to keep me occupied for the time being. Jackpot. Pen, paper, music, scenery. Reaching into the depths of the artistic part of my brain for any remembrance of my classes from life drawing I begin sketching the only scene that might be appealing, as well as easy to draw. The lamp post and the tree behind it seem easily at my disposal and simple to draw. Easy enough. -ten minutes later and I think... This looks like shite. I respect artists now that I see I cannot meet my standards of a light post. It is basically just a straight line with a rectangle thing on the top... Screw it. Nothing ever turns out the way I envision it in my mind, this is just another example. Oh well...I might as well draw some more leaves on the tree though. Solo, listening to French music, and trying to draw on a bright green almost day-glo post-it, a curious looking man, obviously a traveler, cuts across the lawn in front of me. Over the romantic slurs of the French language I hear a grumble and look up to see this mysterious man's mouth moving.

"Pardon?"

"Beautiful day isn't it."

"It certainly is. And how are you on this gorgeous day?"

Suddenly the traveler starts asking my questions in different languages asking if I speak German, French, or Dutch. After establishing that, no, I was not a foreigner but originally from Ohio, the traveler seems intrigued that I could have an "accent" and was raised not but an hour from Kent.

The traveler sits down on a rock opposite of me and greets me with a warm semi-toothless smile. It is apparent that he was either a hitchhiker or homeless. Regardless of which, it was his smile that was endearing and welcoming. It was the type of smile that should have been rewarded with a cold beverage, but with fifty cents in my pocket I was upset that I could not give my fellow man something cold to drink on such a hot day. Despite this setback in my mind we converse briefly. I find out that he has been hitchhiking from Arizona and came back to Ohio because not only is the Kent area where he is originally from, but it is warm and a pleasant place to be in the summer.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. Mine is Tegan."

"Hello, my name is Joel."

"It's a pleasure."

Extending my right hand to shake his, I take extra care to examine the condition of his hand. I find that the hands of an individual tell a person about whomever they belong to. Joel's hands are hard and rough. Tanned and slightly dirtied. I think that it is probably not unlikely that he has used his hands to do the occasional odd job for a small sum of money to get by.

After listening to his stories of being adopted by Native Tribes in the west, and his journeys throughout the USA (disincluding the East Coast because as Joel would say it, "They're all stuck up over there"). I realize that although this man may not have what I have, that I envy him. I envy him because he lives for himself and he lives for things such as a cool breeze, or a cold drink on a hot day, the smile of a passer-by, and the feeling of cutting loose on his own terms. Sitting across from him and imagining his lifestyle compared to mine, I start drifting away from the idea that I had a terrible week; it could have been worse.

Joel was enlightening. Unlike Joel, I am too dependent on others at times and this is something I do not enjoy being as it causes me extra grief in my life. Another item to reflect on was the way he moves on with his life. This is especially symbolic to me, and certainly relevant on this particular day. Moving on and leaving Kent was something I needed to face up to. I am almost positive that Joel has met people that he has only seen and met once in his life, much like his encounter with. But what should be remembered is the time spent with that person, not what could have been spent with that person. Most important though, was the feeling that there are those in the world that still like to sit down and converse with strangers, even on the most irrelevant topic.

Although I will probably never see Joel again in my life I like to think that our paths will cross again someday. Perhaps I will even see him walking on the side of the road with his thumb out so I can pick him up and give him that long overdue beverage. Regardless, this small moment in time allows me to reflect on what is possible. Whether it is hitchhiking from Arizona to Ohio or just getting through the half hour.

Glancing at my watch the half hour has passed.

"Well, it's 12:30 and I have to meet my friends. They're probably waiting for me."

"Yeah, I was going to go see my lawyer friend who picked me up and brought me into Kent."

"It was lovely to have met you Joel. I wish you the best in your travels."

"Thank you. You're a pretty lady. I hope you get where you need to go."

***

It's always the small moments I remember and the smallest of gestures I take away. Taking the path I want is not always an option, but the random meaningful and enlightening events along the way are worth it.