The Familiar Stranger and the Sea

Today at the mall, I became someone else.
She knew me—Dori did. Or she thought she did. And I didn’t correct her.
I said hello, and it was good to see her. I even guessed her name (well, I read her name tag, but let’s not ruin the magic).
We hugged. We smiled. I told her I had an appointment.
And for a brief moment, we both believed something warm and simple: that we knew each other.

It’s happened four times now since I moved to Hawai‘i. Four times I’ve been recognized for someone I’m not—and every time, I’ve said yes to the illusion.

And you know what?
It doesn’t feel like lying.
It feels like being swept into someone’s gentle wave of memory.

That’s why I’m pairing today’s story with this image—this sea.
Unsettled. Shifting. Familiar in motion.
A horizon just far enough away that you can imagine anything is waiting out there.
Maybe even another version of you.

Sometimes, in this life, we are the storm.
Sometimes, we are the shore someone mistakes for home.
And sometimes, we just let it happen.