We were in San Diego this past week on a mini-vacation, visiting with some family and taking in the local sites like Sea World and Legoland. My daughter loved hanging out with her cousins, the three of them hand in hand, running through the hotel doing their best Three Musketeers impression.
When it was time to pack up and leave, I was struck by a conversation I had with one of the hotel staff, an older gentleman, from Spain. He asked us where we were from and we all replied in stereo, India.
And then something happened. I was watching his face, the end of his eyes started to smile, his posture seemed a little more relaxed, his words wanting to reflect his sentiment. He tells us that he was in India in 1966, 1967, 1968, and 1969. He listed out each year instead of grouping them altogether. He ended our conversation with, “The time I spent in India was the most memorable time in my life.”
And I believed him when he said it. There was a genuine love for whatever happened in those years. It could have been a love affair with a girl or a time when he was young and didn’t have any responsibilities. The point is, I don’t know what happened during those years, but the intensity of his experience was something he felt that he had to convey to four strangers.
This moment happened over three days ago and I still can’t shake his face and statement out of my mind. All of us are making memories, but do we know which ones are going to be the most memorable? I wanted to ask him, did you know while you were in India, that this was going to be the most precious memorable time in your life? I know there isn’t an answer to this question, but I wonder how many of us truly appreciate the memories we are making.
What is the most memorable time in your life? Did you know it as you were making the memory? Have you had a conversation with a random stranger that stayed with you? Did you learn anything from that conversation?