[A photo taken a few minutes after the described ‘encounter’. These are not the young women I saw. But I’m including this to give a visual of what I’m conveying. Photo is mine.]

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing…

Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

~~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow The Theologian’s Tale: Elizabeth From Tales of a Wayside Inn

A simple, yet for me, a profound moment played out from a small outside viewing space on our cruise boat. The upper sundeck was closed because the stretch of the Danube we were passing through had eleven low bridges. If you made it over the little chain guard blocking the short stairway, if you somehow evaded a crew member, and if you you stood on a table to get a really grand view, well…your whole day would be ruined. Further, your remains would be eventually found, somewhere along the lovely banks of the green, or light grey, but not blue Danube River.

So, I was standing outside where there was a small bench and a railing to lean against. I was enjoying the warm and pleasant afternoon. Patchy cumulus clouds drifted overhead. The pebble beaches along the shore were populated by picnickers and individuals enjoying the river and the passing boats. I waved at a few people. A few waved back, but not everyone paid me any attention.

I looked ahead and saw two young women sitting on a bench situated on the bank. They drew closer. I waved with my right hand. Both of them must have been watching me because they both immediately waved back. Acting on pure impulse, I blew a kiss. I didn’t know how clearly they could see me so I made it just a bit dramatic, a little more arm motion than probably was necessary. To my surprise, the dark-haired woman on my right returned with her own blown kiss, but she used two hands instead of one.

I was smitten by this simple gesture. They were moving past me faster than I liked so anything further would have to be fast and meaningful. I put my right hand over my heart.

The woman on the right crossed both her arms across her heart, outdoing me.

I was touched. The boat chugged along upriver and they slowly faded into the distance. I watched them until they were out of sight and the boat began a long lazy curve around a bend.

The whole encounter took less than a minute. But in that brief time, I was deeply affected. The ‘loving tap of the heart’ clearly was almost comical in it’s pointlessness. But to me, it was anything but pointless. We never spoke a word. Only gestures communicated a certain connection between me, a passing grey-haired man on a Viking Cruise ship, and two young women, clearly enjoying each other’s company on that beach.

I look back at the Longfellow quote. There was no darkness, it was a bright midday. There were no spoken words, it was done with universal signs.

I think about their evening, their future, their lives. They have forgotten the grey-haired man, but the grey-haired man will never forget them.

How can one forget such heartfelt generosity in the way they responded to a complete stranger that drifted quickly into their lives from the bend down stream and just as quickly disappeared around the next bend.