Scary Stuff

It’s ally a Twilight Zone moment. Seriously, Scary Stuff.

Woman, with a young kid in tow, looks at me, “Hi Kramer.”

Blank stare from me.

“Aries, lots of Leo, met you on a plane from El Paso, I live here in Austin…”

The details all synced up with verifiable facts about me, but I couldn’t recall who she was, at all. Not a clue. Can correlate drive-by neighbors and South Austin trailer parks, but even in the mists of time?

She wandered around my third home in Austin, Nature’s Treasures, then circled back, kid still in tow, and we exchanged pleasantries while I wracked my brain, searching for a connection. Eventually, I did search through the charts, up came her chart, and it all came swimming back into focus.

That was some blast from the past.

Been more than a dozen years, and much has changed.

“I saw you here on a Tuesday, but you were busy. I waved, but you just smiled. I guess you didn’t realize who I was.”

I didn’t.

Apparently, this isn’t the first time this happened to me.

Scary Stuff. No, really.