Tribe

As I cleaned nose and finger prints from our outside windows, (all the ooing and ahhing over gorgeous merchandise), a random lady stops to chat. She and her man are on a four month vacation. She was a designer, in her professional life. I asked if she designed jewelry, as we were hosting another trunk show. No, interior design, published, the whole shebang. Well, my goodness. She whips out a camera. Oh hell no, I don't do pictures. Yes you do, she tells me. The broad wasn't moving on until she got a picture of us together, because I was now a part of her travels. Have mercy. She actually got a decent shot, because I didn't look miserable, and she was pretty. We exchange names and hugs. She told me I am now part of her tribe.

I like her.

These moments happen fairly frequently here in Jackson. I think I have a conversation bubble over my, ”Tell me your story”.

I love a good story.