A few weeks ago (a Monday) I was getting ready to board my train from Chicago to Jackson. As I was preparing to walk from the lounge to the train, the woman next to me said that she wasn’t sure where to go since it was her first time at Union Station. I told her she could follow me since we were heading to the same train. I picked up her accent immediately and asked her which part of England she calls home. She smiled and said the western suburbs of London. I told her about my travels in England, and that London is one of my favorite cities. She was visiting her sister in Dexter, Michigan for a few weeks and decided to visit Chicago since she had heard so many good things about it. We boarded the train and took our seats.
We chatted once more on the train about the Ann Arbor area, and places she might enjoy visiting in the few days she had left stateside. For the most part we just went about our business – her with her newspaper and me with my book. When I got off the train in Jackson I wished her safe travels and she thanked me again for helping her at Union Station.
Fast forward to Friday afternoon….
I was running some errands in Ann Arbor and stopped at Whole Foods to buy some plums and my father-in-law’s favorite smoked mozzarella pasta salad. While standing next to the bread display I felt a hand on my shoulder. A woman with a crisp, English accent asked “are you the woman I met on the train?” I turned 
around and it was her. We laughed, and exclaimed about the odds of this happening. We had a brief, yet lovely conversation about her shopping experience at Cabela’s and final adventures in the area. I noticed the ears of sweet corn in her basket and she said she was heading back to England Saturday night, and wanted to experience sweet corn cooked on the grill before she left the US.
Again we parted ways with me wishing her safe travels.
Seriously, what are the odds?
I never did ask her name.