I love him.
1. As we were packing up to leave the café, I went to wet a paper napkin to clean some delicious lingonberry jam from our tall table by the wall. I managed to get water everywhere. Laughing and wiping up my mess, Woody, our favorite Barista, reached into his pocket and retrieved some small packets of paper. “You guys are my favorite students here. You’re so respectful of the space.” He handed us three of his tiny books, made from one sheet of 8.5x11 paper. “I make these. I hope you like them.” We read them on the train the whole way to the Boston Public Library.
2. Riding on the T (Boston’s train system) back from a lecture by David Rushkoff about his new book, Life, Inc., a beautiful, round-faced little girl in a stroller tapped me on the hip. I smiled at her and she smiled at me and she waved at me and I waved at her. Then, with ninja-like speed and strength, she grabbed my two fingers mid-wave and gave them a mighty pull, laughing lightly to herself. She tugged and I tugged. Her mom apologized and I assured her it was just fine. We smiled and tugged, first with one hand and then with both. When they had to get off the train, we waved and smiled. “Bye-bye!” she chirped as her tired looking mother wheeled her into the soft light of early-evening.
3. Jerome made delicious Mediterranean salad and I brought egg-salad sandwiches made with grown-up bread. John had picked up a copy of All The Pretty Horses for me at Brookline Booksmith. With Jimmy Hendrix playing his upside-down guitar on the stereo, I read the first few dense and Texan pages of McCarthy’s novel. My friends chatted and distributed dinner and the soft, old chair wrapped around me. The sky outside was dark and cool and mysterious.