Connected

Photography © 2012 Carly Mangus

There are few things more striking than passing a fellow Englishman on the sidewalk during a rainy day. I suppose my place as an American woman may limit my argument some, but you know, holding my long umbrella under my arm and feeling the cool dampness in my shoes and hair, I felt connected to this Englishman walking opposite me.

It was lightening up outside. The clouds cleared slowly above and I walked down the sidewalk with my book and my umbrella under my arm. Save for the umbrella and soft squish of wet shoes, the walk was no different from any other. The familiar weight of my backpack on my shoulders, lighter than the world but just as important, made the academic setting. Tall buildings and trees rose around me, folding me into the home I’ve found so welcoming for years. The dreary sky and darkened sidewalks changed nothing about the scene for me. I’d lived it through every spectrum of Michigan weather, and the rain has long been my favorite.

Enter the Englishman: he walked as I did with little variation, holding his long umbrella and a newspaper beneath his arm, loafers squishing lightly with the dampness of the rain, and a briefcase and a cup of coffee in his hands. But rather than the look of a man put out by the weather, he had a light appreciation in his eyes, a careless grin on his lips. It was like he was remembering a home as well, but it was a place far away. As his eyes met mine, there was a kinship between us that I can only identify as a shared appreciation for this second home of ours. We knew it without words, and our polite smiles were more than just politeness, they were understanding.

In that moment, as we appreciated the setting, he was an American female co-ed and I was an Englishman on my way to work. In that moment, we were the same.