Last year a month into my move to New York, I took the bus to Boston to attend bridal appointments for my best friend. On my ride back I sat next to this very chic, older woman. Turns out she was finishing up her month-long visit to the New England area, although she used to live in New York but now she resides in Israel. She was visiting friends and discovering what once had been her home. She has a son my age who just finished his military service in Israel and moved to the city a month before me to work during his gap year.

Most often in transit, I have found myself engaged in conversations like these that include summarized life stories and heartfelt advice. Some of my new friends aren’t particularly fond of these conversations, finding such people annoying or obnoxious. What I think  they don’t realize is that there is something comforting in sharing your story with a stranger, even more comforting when you can share your experiences in hopes it will guide someone else.

In such a large city, no matter how much fun you have or places you’ve seen (even more than natives), it’s still hard to make that emotional connection with new friends. We talk to strangers because we feel like no one is listening. So I listen and respond to the people I meet because I get it and actually find their stories interesting. Although truth be told, half a year into my move here despite never being alone, I find myself missing such a basic connection.