In this blog post, I won’t just be talking about the act of working on puzzles, a meaningful activity that my family has spent a lot of time on already. I talked about that in the last one. I want to touch on a particular anecdote and share it with you all because it’s stuck with me, and it’s an experience you maybe don’t always get to have. Basically, I got to meet one of my good friends’ family friends while working on a puzzle with them at their house about a year ago. We talked about all kinds of things in the time we were there, especially election season and how we were excited to hear what was going to happen next year. How naive we were at the time.
The puzzle we were working on was mostly inconsequential. I don’t remember the pattern or what it looked like at all; I just remember struggling to put anything together, as it had about 25% of it done and was in that stage where people are just putting the pieces next to other pieces and seeing if they fit at all.
About a week or two ago, I spoke to that friend again and we talked about this moment in time. We specifically talked about how weird it is sometimes to recall places and people you’ll likely never meet or see ever again. You were nice and cordial to each other once, and then… poof. They’re gone. You might not even remember their names or where they lived or what their house was like; you just remember that small moment your lives intersected for a bit. It’s unusual to consider this, I guess. But we talked about it together, and I wish I had more examples I could pull out in my head, but they’re all gone.