I am going back to 1997 when I was living in the Boston area and was an occasional runner. I liked to go to the Brookline Reservoir where the running path around the reservoir was approximately one mile. It was a nice quiet spot away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.
It was dusk and the amount of daylight could be measured in minutes. I was finishing my last lap when I spotted a car key laying on the path. It was attached to a pink stretchy band that slips around your wrist. I could see about three or four other runners out on the path. I did not recall seeing the key on an earlier lap. I stopped and picked it up hoping someone in the parking area would be looking for it. As I approached the parking area I observed a woman dressed in an all pink running suit. As I got closer to her I held up the key for her to see. I could see her smile and begin to walk toward me. The woman, who I would estimate to be 70 years old, exclaimed, "Thank You". She went on to tell me how she had been looking around her car and the parking lot for the key. I detected a slight accent as she spoke. I responded by saying something like, "I'm glad I found it and found you." I went on to say, "It would not be a good day to lose your key." The woman's expression changed to one with a twinge of anguish. As she looked directly at me she pushed the left sleeve of her running jacket up to a point where I could observe a series of numbers, now faded, tattooed on her forearm above her wrist. With a strong and compassionate voice she said, "Young man, I survived the Holocaust, I do not have anymore bad days." I didn't know how to respond. She gave me a hug. I went to my car and drove off. I'm not sure I recall anything about my drive home, I was paralyzed with emotion. I occasionally think of this event when I think I'm having a bad day. Then again is it really a bad day? All in perspective.
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