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[14] These days. So interconnected, yet so far apart.

When I was fourteen I visited Sweden. The tour guide had a daughter. She was a year or two younger than I was, and we got along really well. While we toured Stockholm, I hung out with her, and we exchanged language tips; more her than I though, her English was very impressive. She taught me a few Swedish words, and we had a laugh every time one of the words was the same in English and Swedish. At the end of the day we exchanged addresses so that we could remain pen pals. I was so pleased to have a pen pal.

On the plane ride back to the States, I lost the slip of paper that held her address. I was so upset; I asked my grandmother to contact the tour agency to find her again, but of course it was a long shot, and that was not the type of information the agency knew or could even probably share. My hope was that she would send me a letter, I could use the return address to write her back, and it would never matter that I couldn't write her first.

A week or so later, I got something from her. It was a postcard from Southern France, where she was vacationing. It killed me - the one form of contact that has no return address. She remained untraceable to me, and I was left feeling rude and terrible. Surely she thinks of me as just another rude American, someone who seems nice, but never bothers to keep in touch. This is so against my nature; I never lose touch with people, even with people I haven't seen for years. Even worse - I really truly wanted to stay in touch. I want to let her know I thought about her after I left Sweden, and I still feel terrible when I look at the kindly postcard she sent me on her vacation. Phone books and directories are great within the country, but outside it.... I've come to realize that even in our increasingly connect world, finding one person is nearly impossible. Perhaps it wouldn't be like this if I knew more than her first name. One girl, one short, fairly common name. That's all it takes, I guess.

It's not even a big deal. I'm sure she doesn't judge all Americans just because one little girl never wrote her back. And yet, it is a big deal. It was something that could have been great, a connection to another country, and I missed out on that just because I was unable to organize myself long enough to keep hold of that little piece of paper. I only knew her for a day... but it's not the length of time I knew her. It's just that I could have known her so much longer.

Now I'm a little older, and I know of sites like MySpace and Facebook, and it seems like these sites could be the key to finding her again... but with one name they're not. First name only is not enough. If only I could remember her last name. If only I knew the name of her hometown (it wasn't Stockholm). If only she hadn't sent me a postcard. If only it had been a letter. If only I hadn't lost that paper.

I'm sorry, Lise.
I liked the postcard. I hope life has been great wherever you are.