Good people

Last weekend I went to Amsterdam to see an old co-worker.  In 1998, I (rather spontaneously) quit my job at SEI, and was desperately looking for another, when I attended an "open house" event where Kim was one of the presenters.  I completely monopolized Kim's time, in part because I figured getting to know one person was a better strategy than just introducing myself to a dozen people, but mostly because I found her enchanting.  Full of energy and expression, she was a delight to talk to, and I figured any place she enjoyed working was good enough for me.

I did get the job and I actually hated it (or, more specifically, I hated my boss) and I was already talking to my old company about coming back in a different capacity.  I did get to work with Kim for a while -- and I came away with even more respect for her abilities -- but the whole time I was trying to leave the company, so it was a strained relationship.

Shortly after that, I moved on to another project and she moved to the San Francisco area.  We didn't keep in touch but we had mutual friends, so I got updates when she got married, had kids, and in 2004 moved to Amsterdam.

Fast forward four years, and I find myself in London, just 300 miles away!  I got Kim's email from a friend and made contact but, for fairly ridiculous reasons, it took me another four years to go see her!  It was hard to believe it had been 12 years -- she looked the same -- but the proof was standing in front of me: Her three daughters, aged 11, 8, and 6, whom I'd never met.

Now, on the face of it, this is actually quite ridiculous: I never really knew Kim, we were never really friends, and I just showed up at her doorstep after 12 years and she let me stay for three nights. And I had a great time.  I can't tell you how much I enjoyed talking to Kim, and playing with the kids, and just hanging out doing nothing. And if I were trying to find a definition for "good people," I couldn't do much better than that.

But if I'm honest, it was also very depressing. I didn't realize this before, and perhaps it's because they are family, but when I see my nieces I don't think, I wish I had a family.  But as I watched Kim dealing with a mountain of laundry, a kitchen full of dishes, children arguing, and all the while coming up with a creative way to spend Queen's Day, I was filled with envy.  And when her youngest curled into her side for a story, I had to reach for a tissue.  (Fortunately, I had an allergic reaction to their dog, so grabbing a tissue was not unusual...)