There’s this old Greek woman and her stocky son who live on our corner who remind me of my Yia Yia and Uncle, especially since she has this beautiful garden that he’s always tending to for her. Her house is on the way to the coffee shop I’ve been writing my thesis at a lot, so frequently I pass by and see the old woman sitting on her porch, especially now that the weather is getting nicer.

I can’t help but smile at her when I go by since they remind me of my family. She always smiled back, and our smiles have upgraded to smiles and waves. When I walked by this morning, she said to her son “That’s the smile lady!”

I’m glad I could brighten her mornings enough that she’d tell her son just from a smile. But at the same time, I think of the hundreds of other people who must walk by her and not even notice she’s there, and that it’s kind of sad that I’m notable because I just smile her way.

Called my grandparents after that.