The Friendly Past

How kind this woman is, how
very courteous is her response to
the obvious, that while she joyously
calls my name and rushes to hug me
in her capacious grasp, I am at a loss
for recognition eludes me. As occurred
once before when happenstance had
us cross paths, she gushed into happy
remembrance of our shared workplace
and I, confused, apologized while she
waved off any embarrassment on my
part. What a recessed ego in a gracious
personality. She too now retired only
two decades after I did myself, and
it is obvious to me that this extremely
pleasant woman who takes such great
pleasure in greeting others of her
past was someone I hardly took notice
of those many years ago, while in
contrast she recalls so many things
about me, and offers the golden platter
of compliments to one hardly in the
circumstances deserving of them. For
truth is, though she urges me to recall
through identification and description
of events and times familiar to me I
still would not, in a crowd of two, be
capable of placing the beaming face
much less the character behind it.