GOUDA LUCK

About 8 months ago I wrote about a woman who crossed her fingers for our baby-to-be.  And yesterday, on our way to the car, I saw her again - this time with the bundle of joy tugging at my neck and clinging close to my chest.  Just as sweetly and as if she recognized us - I don't think she did, but who knows? - she stopped for barely enough to time to make the sign of the cross in front of us, as a blessing, and sputtered in her broken English "Good Luck" (if you say it to yourself as "Gouda Luck" you'll get a better idea of how she actually sounded).  Everything comes full circle, doesn't it?  And I am reminded, as I often am, what a small neighborhood New York really is.