I can write a great letter.

Day 27: The friendliest person you've ever known for only one day.

I am SO excited about this one because I can write a really good one this time. And I know exactly who I'm going to write to. And I've been looking forward to this one since the very beginning.

Dear the friendliest person I've ever known for only one day,

I wasn't ever expecting to meet you, and I wasn't ever expecting to have the conversation we did, but it's one of those memories I look back on and can't help but smile. I don't even know your name. But I think that's what makes it so beautiful to me.

I got on the plane after a 5-hour layover or something in Salt Lake. My seat was in the back, the very back, right next to you. A girl who looked about my age. We started the small talk that's customary with the person you're expected to share a small space with for several hours, but unlike the other conversations, we didn't stop talking. Where I expected to be reading after boarding and take-off, we kept talking. I didn't even pick up my book.

We talked about everything. Like teenage girls. I bet the people around us were mentally (or actually, I don't know because the back of the plane isn't exactly conducive to seeing...) rolling their eyes at the subjects we'd talk about and how excited we'd get about certain things. And probably how we were disturbing them.

I told you about my classes at IU, and you told me about yours at BYU in Idaho (that's right, isn't it? I'm pretty sure.) Where we were going (me to see a boy I hadn't seen in a long time, and never at his new home, you home for Thanksgiving with your family in San Diego, the first time you'd see your dogs since you'd left for school in August). I couldn't imagine going to school so far away. We talked about our lives, our families. What our schools were like, what our friends were like. Music we liked. I wish I could remember that band you told me I'd like. I'd really like to listen. As we flew, I got more nervous (because it was finally happening, because we were so close). We talked for the whole flight. It was longer than I thought. What, like 2-3 hours? 2? I'm not sure.

We landed, and we talked through the terminal. I was so jittery. I told you how stupid it was for me to be nervous, how I tried to find his face through the crowd at the top of the escalator. (Intimate things?) Then we were there. We said rushed goodbyes as you ran off to your family and your Thanksgiving and I ran into a hug and something I'd been waiting for. I didn't even ask your name.

One time, I tried to find you on Facebook. Just browsing. I don't know how I'd ever find you, but eh. I looked for curiousity. It's just such a surreal moment in my mind. Like the way the world works. Two strangers bumping into each other and sharing something transitory (in every sense), but sharing their lives, and then everything just fading away. We were so different and had so many things in common. But then we both walked away without really a second thought.

Well, I guess I'm giving it a second thought. Because it was just such a...moment that I feel like it has to mean something. Kinda one of those miracle moments, but not at a life-changing, drastic moment or anything. I guess it's just how the world works. But hey, just so you know, that moment meant a lot to me.

Thanks for the great conversation and for letting me in to your life even though you didn't know me. (And still don't, I guess, because you don't know my name either). And for making that plane ride better.

-Lauren Sedam (see? now you know it.)