“Thank u to u and ur husband for one of the nicest dinners out I have ever enjoyed by myself!”

Her wig was disheveled and obvious to a chemo survivor like me, and she was scrunched tight into the corner table, dining with an i-Phone facebook page. The glow was unmistakable in the small, dim back room of the restaurant. My husband and I had just reveled in the lastest big screen Bond adventure, sizzling for a quiet supper spot to chat about the movie, enjoying the re-do of each thrill, sharing details and nuances. Date night.

But her sad posture of loneliness could not be ignored. It took over my heart. So when my husband excused himself to go to the restroom, I introduced myself. I said that if we were going to share a space the size of our master bath, we ought to get acquainted.

And so it began. A dance of human connection that soon included two other couples across the four tables in the back room that others might consider the purgatory of dining, not the show table of the place. We noticed the busboy and waitress coming more and more often to refill our water glasses and tend to our needs, not so surreptitiously smiling. It was an evening of relationships in a country that needed it, not so long after a divisive election after a divisive Congressional session and amidst the divisions of religion and war and race – that have all become so cumbersome on our psyches that we need far more than prayer.

It seems that we just need to notice each each other, say “Hi” – and to abandon our own agendas.

I Liked her facebook post immediately. I have a new friend in Canada.