I enjoyed listening to Arlinda's stories. She had a wealth of knowledge going back generations. Some of the people she talked about lived before the Civil War. The parables she told were words that had drifted over plantations, and a backbone of perseverance to those who felt broken.

When I told her that my long-distance relationship had ended, she sipped on an iced tea and told me of a similar experience she had had. She visited Australia and had met a man who was recently divorced and taking care of his son. They showed her around Sydney, giving her a tour from a local's perspective. With her vacation over, she returned to the East Bay. They stayed in touch. He was so enraptured with her that he wanted to move with his son to the US to be with her. His desperation was not endearing. Moving to a new continent, a new hemisphere, brought with it a lot of unknowns. She had a sense that he would not integrate in the US. He might get dejected and wind up living on her couch, like her ex-husband had done. No, it was time to end the relationship.

Arlinda's time with him gave her a unique experience in Australia. That was where her vacation memories resided. She did not want to complicate them with a long-term commitment with a high potential for failure.

I digested this story, along with our lunch. My memories, likewise, were of a certain time and place and could never be rekindled. It was time to move on.

Arlinda did not have to tell me outright what she thought I ought to do. It was not her place, and it would have been condescending to my intelligence. Instead, she gave me the dignity of pulling what I needed from her experience, so that I may learn from it and come to peace with my actions.