We all yearn for connection. But I have discovered that whom or what you connect with can sometimes be unexpected. Dolls, a cat and a chance encounter have all made an impression on me.

First of all, Leona isn’t a human. She’s a doll, a vintage Charmin Chatty Cathy doll that belonged to my Aunt Joyce, who died over two years ago. But Leona, whom my aunt named after her own middle name, isn’t just a doll. She’s a link to my aunt and the past and a link to my uncle and cousins. My cousins asked if I would like to have her, and I eagerly said yes.

When she was middle-aged, my aunt bought this doll. She said she had never gotten to play dolls since she had three boys. I think the reason she picked out this particular doll was that she wore round glasses like my aunt used to wear. At their house in New York, Leona stood at the bottom of the stairs. Here, she is usually in my bedroom except when I dress her up for the holidays and put her in the window. She faces my driveway and the Victoria Mansion, so neighbors and visitors alike get to see her. I have seen strangers take her picture.

On a bleak winter’s day, Leona is my connection to the outside world. Leona also connects me to my cousins; I take pictures of her dressed in her holiday finery and text them. And we agree that my aunt would be happy to know that Leona brings me joy.

Another connection was made through a doll. This is now a friendship that started 24 years ago. My vintage Barbie needed her makeup restored since I wanted to display her on a shelf. So after many attempts, I found a doll doctor named Lydia in Kennebunkport. Lydia restored Barbie’s makeup and has since reattached Jill’s leg and given Ken back his hair.

Over the years and many repairs later, we’ve become good friends. We were at her workplace during 9/11 and have been through happy times and tragedies. We both marvel that our doll connection has turned into a lasting friendship.

In the summer, my volunteer job as a greeter in the courtyard at the Victoria Mansion has given me a new acquaintance, a cat named Ruffi. He isn’t just a cat, as we are actually co-workers with the same job title, but he gets all the attention. He is a sweet, one-eyed orange cat, age 13. The visitors love meeting him, and he is somewhat of a celebrity. His often being the topic of conversation breaks the ice among strangers. And I admire his outgoing personality and good work ethic. And through him, I have met his owners, who are my neighbors.

There are chance encounters that make a difference, too.

Recently, I was at the Market Basket in Westbrook and feeling a little downhearted over something. As I was strolling down an aisle looking for something, I thought I heard a voice behind me say “Hola.” I wasn’t sure, so I turned around and saw a young man stocking shelves. I asked if he had said it, and he said yes. So I replied, “Oh, español,” and his eyes lit up.

But then I explained I hadn’t spoken Spanish since my Spanish class my senior year at the University of Maine. Those were the days when the professor called me “Señorita Sullivan.” But then he flashed a smile and said, “amiga” and I replied, “amigo,” and went on my way, very cheered up. His greeting me might have seemed like a small thing, but it wasn’t. It made my day.

During the pandemic, we found out the high price of isolation. If we want to stay connected, we shouldn’t overlook new opportunities. We are all on this journey together, and we need to remember that.