Hello Old friend

Full Circle at the Farmers Market

A while back, I was at a farmers market in Chelsea, picking up vegetables for work. I work at Sullivan Street Bakery, right in the neighborhood, so the market has become part of my regular routine. Paying for them meant the usual juggling act. Bags in one hand, phone out to tap and pay in the other, when I caught myself sneaking glances at the man behind me in line.

He looked familiar. Really familiar.

The woman helping me ring up my order noticed. “Should I ask if he’s who I think he is?” I asked her, only half joking.

“Sure,” she said. “If you think you know him, say hello.”

So I did. And he was exactly who I thought he was: Barry Wine, my former boss from the Sony Club.

We hadn’t seen each other in years. There’s something strange about spotting someone from a past chapter of your life in a completely unrelated setting. No context, no warning, just a face in a crowd your brain works overtime to place. But I said hello, and just like that, we were catching up mid transaction, vegetables and all.

I figured that was the end of it. A nice, unexpected blip of nostalgia in an otherwise ordinary errand.

Then today, Barry walked into the bakery.

I said hello again, and this time the tables had turned a little. He asked what he should eat. I told him to try the potato pizza, the Roman style, taglio, just baked. Rosemary, onions, olive oil, and cracked pepper, still warm.

He took my advice, smiled, and quipped, “nothing wrong with pizza in the morning.” Then he grabbed one to go with a coffee.

There’s something quietly satisfying about that shift. From being the person who once took direction from Barry, to being the one he trusted for a food recommendation. Funny how life loops back around like that.