A little old lady bumped into me at the grocery store today.  She was so precious, so sincere in her apology for not watching where she was going.  That's when I saw her tattoo and before I could catch myself I asked "is that what I think it is?"  She smiled and replied..."what do you think it is?" to which I replied "a concentration camp tattoo" as my eyes filled with tears.  She said, "yes, but someone once asked f it was my phone number." We both chuckled at that.  I asked if I could hug her, and she said, of course....and my tears spilled over.  She was a child when she was put into that concentration camp and she said that she thinks about the experience daily.  It has made her a strong woman.  She also told me that she was not a practicing Jew.  I asked why, and she said that a majority of Jews are full of hatred and bigotry.  They dislike and distrust anyone who isn't Jewish, they hate blacks they do not treat women well, just like their brothers the Arabs.  I was surprised by this.  She said the Orthodox are worse than anyone.  Then she asked, "did you know that women can't pray at the wall?  Isn't that ridiculous?  That wall was built thousands of years ago and to prevent anyone from praying there goes against God", at least that was her opinion.

We talked politics and religion, about raising children and how important it is to respect those around you for not only what you have in common but for those differences as well.  It was a wonderful 35 minutes in the cookie aisle.  I finally asked her her name, "Esther, like the queen" she replied.  "mine is Caroline, like the princess" I said.  We laughed then she said "may I kiss you good bye" so I leaned way down (she was about 5 feet tall) and we kissed each others cheeks.  Not those kisses that land somewhere in space by the ear, but right on the skin.  She smelled of lavender.  We said goodbye and she went her way and I went mine.  I wish I had gotten her phone number for that was such a delightful episode in my rather mundane life.  And it reminded me of something my mother used to say.  "A stranger is just friend you haven't met yet."