While traveling through Italy, many years ago, I found myself one day in a crowded park, where I stopped to rest and take in the scenery. It was a beautiful spring day, and apparently every human being in Italy had decided to go out for a walk.*

With my camera at the ready, I settled in for a morning of distinctly tourist-like ogling. The park filled up quickly, and soon every bench within sight was overflowing with an eclectic collection of humanity. The spectacle was magnificent.

As I watched the impromptu parade, an elderly woman ambled slowly up the path, peering anxiously left and right for a place to sit. When she drew near me, I stood up and beckoned to her.

"Prego," I said, gesturing for her to sit in my place.

She smiled at me gratefully and sat down, clearly relieved. "Danke," she replied. Thank you. German, not Italian.

"Bitte," I responded. You're welcome. It was about all the German I knew, and I was pleased as punch to have a reason to use it. I have found as a general rule that the less I know of a language, the more excited I am to offer up these rare phrases.**

Unfortunately, this prompted her to launch into a rapid stream of chatter that I had no hope of comprehending. I laughed and shook my head. She asked me something else, and I smiled and shook my head again.

"Danke, bitte," I repeated. "That's all I know," saying this last bit in English while shrugging dramatically.

She nodded then, in comprehension, and smiled her thanks. I nodded back, smiled again, and wandered on down the path. I had no idea what she was trying to say to me, and it didn't matter. Her smile said it all.

These moments of human connection are among the most precious gifts that life has to offer. They defy all boundaries of difference and misunderstanding because they touch the heart directly. May your life, and mine, be filled with such memories.

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*A special thanks to Patti Digh for her post, Study for the essay questions, on 37 days, which reminded me of this story.

**The one exception is Chinese, in which I know only how to say, "Your thighs are too fat." This lamentable phrase was drummed into me one summer without explanation by an old friend who kept insisting that I say it to his sister. Knowing him as I did, I refused to do so. Needless to say, I am not looking out for an occasion to use it.