I remembered the man. I'd sat next to him on a flight from Orlando to ... somewhere. Not the most recent round of flights I took. Another one. The one before this most recent? I think so. Where had I gone? Grand Rapids, I think. By way of ... somewhere.
Mystery solved. I picked up the card to put it in the box where I keep such things, but found myself pulling it out again, studying it. Odd. I hadn't remembered getting the card until I investigated a little. How many other cards have I received in the course of my career--my life even--that I cannot connect to a person? A conversation? A moment in time?
This doesn't apply to just me. Or someone like me. Someone who flies a lot. Meets a lot of folks. This can happen to anyone.

Anita's job kept her working from Tuesday through Saturday. On Sunday the family went to church and spent time together. On Monday, after Philip went to work and the unnamed child went to school, Anita cleaned. Top to bottom, that apartment sparkled.
She used Pine Sol. Though I haven't seen Anita in probably 30 years, Pine Sol reminds me of her.
Sometimes time whispers to us, using business cards or scents. Music. The rustle of leaves or the way they crunch under your feet in the autumn of the year ...
Time whispers. But, I think, we are often so busy ... we miss the brushing against our ear.
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