Memories that stick

No, not physically adhesive. I mean in the mind.

I was on the bus today, mostly staring out the window and wondering if we'd get more snow (it has more or less melted, leaving me with the uneasy feeling that we'll get another massive snowfall). The lady across the aisle from me took out a book, and it caught my eye: it was a travel guide, to Arizona.

Seeing that guide--think of the Lonely Planet book, only with a red cover--made me wonder. I live in the Great White North (although thanks, Vancouver, you're totally wrecking our reputation as a snow-bound land) and Arizona is a long way off--not just physically, geographically, but also in mind. I wondered if that lady had friends there, or family, or if she was going on a business trip, or just for fun. Would she fly there? Drive all the way? Was she going as a tourist? What was Arizona really like, anyway? I'd only seen a glimpse of it, as an air-trip stopover, and I have very little idea what it's like there.

It's not even a significant memory, but as I saw she put the book back into her bag, I had the feeling that the memory would stick.