I was almost all the way through Parr Park, passing the red jungle gym, when a little boy made eye contact with me.

I gently smiled, but kept walking.

As if intent on talking to me, the boy ran toward me with bright eyes and enthusiasm and said, "Hi, do you have any kids?"

"I do," I said.

Where are they?

Well, one is taking a piano lesson and the other is still at school.

How old are they?

"Matthew is 7 and Jack is 4.  How old are you?"

"I'm five", he said with a smile that was missing two front teeth.

As if anxious to keep the conversation going, he followed up by saying, "I have a baby sitter who picks me up from school everyday."

I told him about our babysitter, Jennifer, and after a few more lines we exchanged good-byes and I turned to walk away.

It was an unexpected, but pleasant, exchange in the middle of a normal Wednesday afternoon.

Then, from behind, that same sweet voice called after me saying, "Hey, what's your name?"

"Claudia," I said turning. And then staring right back into his eyes I asked, "What's your name?"

"Ethan".

Then, for a split second time stopped, as if to make sure the power of that very moment did not pass me by.

I think it was the fact that Ethan went out of his way to learn my name and, by extension, invited me to learn his. Up to that point our meeting felt like an ordinary exchange of pleasantries.  The kind of polite exchange you have while standing in a grocery store line, waiting at the post office, or sitting across from someone at a Starbucks.

After asking my name, though, the exchange with Ethan felt like more like the "Oneness" that long-time reader, Kristi, has referenced in the Comment Section for the past couple of days. A keen awareness that we are all, in some way, connected. That we are all One.

I hope I do that same thing for someone else today.

Shining off until...