What's your name again?

There is a man who has the capacity to brighten up my day, no matter how absolutely dismal it has been.

And I don't know his name.

Since I was eight years old I have met him in the street and we've smiled at each other. At first it was just a 'oh yes, you're familiar' sort of smile. But somewhere along the way, it grew to the beaming 'you're familiar, and for some unfathomable reason you make me feel happy' kind.

I watched him walk hand in hand with his granddaughter, leading her first few tentative steps. I watched him take her to school, buy the groceries, or cautiously hold his wife's elbow to make sure she didn't trip on the ever treacherous 'just tarred' road.

When I met him last evening, we both stopped short in shock, and delight! We hadn't seen in each other in more than six months, and I had well and truly missed him. He had moved from the house a few blocks away from mine and was therefore no longer seen around the neighbourhood.

We had a conversation that lasted for a good ten minutes; both of us standing in the pouring rain under umbrellas that protected us from nothing. But we didn't cut short on catching up on each others lives.

I only realised when I overheard him tell his wife in Tamil that I was 'that Vieira-girl from the green house' that he didn't know my name. And even more surprising, I hadn't a clue what his was either!

But after so many years, it's not polite to bring up these minor details. So he continued on his way and I continued on mine. And I know that each of us was happier knowing that we had been missed, even if it was by a relative stranger.