A Fruitful Day
Dear Kate,
It's been a fruitful day. The kind of fruit you want to taste again, right away.
It's my day off, and I took transit to visit a friend in Richmond, an-hour-and-a-half each way of pure Active-Noise-Cancellation bliss with my new headset: Dylan's Original Mono Recordings never sounded so good. This friend is a colleague from my previous job. He just retired, like, last week. We would meet up at least once a season, but this time, for that, is more special. Almost poignant.
I didn't expect the day to be exceptional.
To begin with, I was told a few days ago today's gonna rain cats and dogs. None of such creatures: only Quatchi I met in the Richmond Cultural Centre. I arrived an hour early, as I expected myself to; so I wandered into the only place that opened at 8:30 in the morning. I plan to show up late only for my own funeral.
Also it so happened that I didn't sleep well last night. After dinner I was reading Walter Brueggemann's Introduction to the Old Testament, because I was talking about it the day before. It made me so happy that I couldn't fall asleep. And when I finally did I dreamed strange dreams all the way to 5 in the morning. Note to myself: melatonin, not Masoretic Text before bed.
So I was in the Richmond Brighouse library, where the Cultural Center is, and by 9 I was let in. I stood there in the lobby, where the check-out is, where I once stood, tried to look at myself from the inside, feel the change in me since years ago then, and no sooner went upstairs to the Ben & Esther Dayson Judaica Collection, where I first met Roth and Bellow and Babel together, with me being let in, a small circle that is big enough for all nations.
"Keeping the Promise: A Torah's Journey" was the book I read. And I grew envious reading it. God gave them His words and they cherished it. My culture they trashed it.
Today has been exceptional in very ordinary ways. Such as how I realized there was a hole in my old jeans, of a rather conspicuous size at a rather conspicuous place. So after breakfast with my friend I went into a store and - can you believe it, a pair of brand-name jeans of my very size was waiting for me and at a deeply-discounted price for the cheapskate in me? I wore it to the cashier and asked the kind lady to scan my butt. She was laughing and asked me where the hole was in the old jeans in my hands. I showed her and she laughed some more.
I went home, walked my dog, and hemmed my new pants. (I am too short to ever get any "perfect fit.") The work I put in cost more than the pants. I paid $8.
Yours, Alex
Comments
Post a Comment