I was an awkward kid and the friends I had back then were all my cousins, so to me, making friends out of strangers was a very alien concept. I was left wondering how my mom managed to be so chill and unfazed about the encounter. “Maybe it’s something that just needs some getting used to?  Or that you learn it over time? Or maybe it’s more a matter of practice?” These questions brewed in me deeply. 

I knew that was not going to be the last of those encounters, and so I set out to answer those questions through close observation. As I listened more closely to my mother’s conversations with other people, I noticed that those conversations were much more complex than I initially thought. She was very careful with her language; fitted her tone according to the person with whom she's conversing, and also made her empathy very evident notwithstanding the topic of conversation.  She is considerate and careful in passing judgment towards everyone she spoke with. It's as if her heart speaks with her. Slowly, I find the craft of engaging with people more enthralling. I no longer looked at what my mother did as mundane but found it more like an art form that needs both practice and mastery. The impatience I felt against how she talked continuously with strangers, friends, and family became my notion of the ideal person.