Alone on an empty sidewalk in an arctic blast of Chicago winter wind that could easily crush a soul. He looks up from his phone. Normally there would be hundreds walking this slight rise in front of the Prudential Building, across the street from Millennium Park. But the cold is here now. So it’s just the two of us. And he says, “Can you please help me?”
“Sure. What are looking for?”
“Giordano Chicago deep dish pizza. Is somewhere near here?”
“It’s in this building. C’mon. I’m walking that way. Good day for hot pizza.”
“Oh yes! Chicago pizza!”
“Where are you from?
“I come from South Korea. From Seoul?”
“Really! I have a niece from South Korea now. She and my nephew and their daughter live in Wales. But she is from South Korea. And at their wedding I had the Korean food made by her mother and I loved it! Today would be a great day for Kimchi!”
“You like,” his face showing true surprise, “Kimchi?”
“I love it!”
“You know, every family has their own. Every family makes it different.”
“I did not know that.”
He nods. I point at the Giordano sign at the corner just as a blast of wind almost blows us both off our feet. “Well, time for you to eat some pizza and I’ll go find some Kimchi.”
“Kimchi! You like Kimchi!” He nods his head vigorously, thanks me, turns and walks off into the wind and his pizza.
And somehow the world gets just a tiny bit warmer.