Thursday, December 8, 2011


She was already what I would call “tall”, but with her pom-pom hat she must have been 6 ½ feet. (She walked fast!)

Young Russian couple; she leaned into him when the train lurched with the ease of someone who knows she will be taken care of.

University friends, reacquainted. She’s doing a practicum, talking about the easy day she had yesterday. My back is to them, but I could easily follow their conversation. Great to see you, let’s get together. She gets off. As we ride along, I was rotated, now I could see the scruffy face that went with his voice. From the top of his too-large parka, I catch a glimpse of the “S” of a worn out Superman t-shirt. His pants are frayed. Chances are the drink over the Holidays will never happen.

Beautiful in black from head to toe, how wonderful to add orange tights. To be so young.

She’s heading towards me, talking on her cell. She stops to speak. “What can I do about someone who almost ran me over?” she says. I hope she was talking to the Police.

Red light. “So I said to him, ask her what her dress looks like”. “What?” He says to me, “I don’t want to know”. “I know YOU don’t want to know”, she says, “but I want to know. I need to know HOW dressed up people are going to be. Do you think that’s weird?” “ Definitely not”, says her friend. And another Christmas party dress dilemma will be ironed out.

He's carrying a pink Holt Renfrew lunch bag in one hand and a garbage bag full of crumpled pastel coloured shirts in the other. The tassels on his stylish loafers lie frozen in an odd position.

The snow is starting to accumulate, and I am grateful that I have reached my destination.

A handsome, young man wearing a polka dot tie (which seems like an act of defiance to the gathering snowflakes) smiles and opens the door for me. Ah, now my work day can begin.

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