My brother has big, chocolate brown eyes. When he is conversing with you, his eyes are focused on you and nothing else. His gaze is warm and welcoming. He doesn’t make you feel like you are being interrogated, he makes you feel comfortable and accepted. My sister-in-law laughs when she talks of how my brother knows everyone in their neighborhood, their dogs’ names, and who might be ready for a pick-up game of racquetball. He can be intense — in a good way. You get the feeling that he is interested in what you have to say, and he wants to know more.
I get energized from connecting with people.
(I admit that connecting with others is a way for my hole to get filled. I know… I’m supposed to do that from within.)
My kids and I will be looking for something at Target, and I’ll ask a clerk for help. Invariably, while she’s leading us to the widget that I can’t find, she’ll tell us about the time that she bought the same widget; how her husband thought she was crazy, but that it did exactly what the product was supposed to do; how her mother-in-law bought the same thing, and now the whole family swears by this widget; and on and on …
I can’t get out of a store without hearing the makings of a life story. Continue reading →