I’ve read the word sonder many times but have never heard it spoken. Does it rhyme with wander? I wonder…

We have just returned from a road trip that was full of both wandering and wondering. ‘A road trip to anywhere.’ We had one night booked in Atlantic City and no nights booked anywhere else, so we ended up meandering westward for a few days. We met a lot of people along the way. Since we had no idea where we were going and no plans to see anything specific, we relied on the kindness of strangers to make sightseeing suggestions and offer up restaurant recommendations.

And the word Sonder kept popping up in my mind. I was ponderous about being sonderous. And it was quite wondrous.

On our first night, our young, energetic waiter from Romania, Vaz, told us about his wife. He met her online during the pandemic, and they began a long distance relationship. They traveled back and forth for visits when possible. Eventually, he moved to the US and they were married. She was and still is in the US military, and ironically is currently stationed in Romania. Her superior officer has been accused of harassing several women. She is among those who have filed complaints. A few of the women have been pressured into withdrawing their complaints. Her situation is tense and tentative. He is hoping for a swift resolution, but spends his days here, worrying about her career, her reputation, and her safety.

On our second day we randomly ended up in Kennett Square, PA. Their whole Main Street had a mushroom motif. The modelesque young woman at the record store explained to us that it was the mushroom capital of the whole world. ‘Except maybe China now. But maybe not.’ She told us all about the local dirt. (Pun definitely intended. No cap.)

At the hotel in Lancaster, the front desk attendant, Oz, from Istanbul, talked about studying to become a hotel and restaurant manager. He was super helpful and gave us three (!) extra bags of free goodies from the local chocolate factory. When our keycard wouldn’t work he spent time walking and talking with us about his career goals and how much he loves it ‘here in Pennsylvania’.

The teenage Mennonite waitress dressed in traditional clothes slid Johnny his plate of birds in the nest, and explained that she and her siblings always fought over the nest holes when they were little. She told him to dip them in his egg yolks. She recommended that I put maple syrup on my fried corn mush.

Joe, the elderly volunteer at the restored train station visitor center in Lititz, spouted off little known facts about his town, and about his own long life. He taught us all about the Moravian history of the area. Then he sent us on our way to the oldest pretzel bakery in the country. The pretzel lady then pointed us in the direction of the next covered bridge.

Tony, a former drug addict gave us our scattered-covered-chopped-home-fries. We talked about his 20 years of sobriety, and Leo Tolstoy. A young couple in the next booth had just gotten married at the courthouse 30 minutes earlier. She was not going to tell her father that she was pregnant.

We had malted milk shakes in Marietta, while local patrons politicked. And when we crossed the bridge we were told that visiting the record store was ‘actually the only fun thing to do’ in York.

The waiter from Jalisco at the very authentic Mexican restaurant, was sarcastic and hilariously catty. But he was patient with John’s attempts at Spanish, and playfully called him gringo alto.

The oldest civilian band in the country was playing at the Art in the Park festival in Allentown. I listened to them in the distance as I moved through the pop-up tents filled with paintings and sculptures. I was whistling along with them and bopping my head, when a bohemian looking woman walked right up, started dancing with me and mimicking a trumpet. I opened my eyes wide and said ‘Yes! That’s exactly what I was saying!’ And then she smiled and danced away.

Everywhere we went we connected with everyone we could. We interacted with literal busloads of people in hotel hallways and in hot tubs. We had meaningful exchanges in elevators and heard short stories in shopping aisles. We experienced bits and pieces of so many lives along the way.

We were explorers of places and people. The main characters in this buddy-road-trip-movie of ours. But to each of the people that we met, we were just cameo actors, stepping into their movie sets for a brief appearance. We were just passing through, like the hundreds if not thousands of people that they will have brief, perhaps forgettable, interactions with.

And just as our own lives are full, and vivid, and expansive, so are each of their lives. Each and every other person has a full and complete story. Every single one of them. Out there. Living full and complete lives, whether or not we ever cross their paths.

And that, is sonder. I know the concept will be at the forefront of my mind for some time now.

Sonder. I carried the wonder of it home with me. As a souvenir. Because the chocolate and pretzels are long gone already.