Boys,
I really don’t know if anyone will ever check this again. Just in case, I wanted to write a little something.
So today I went to go and meet Alana at the airport. She was passing thought Toronto on her way to Ghana and I wanted to see her. She and I hung out for an hour-ish during her layover at Pearson. It was cool. That’s not what this post is about.
The post is about my ride home. I got on the bus, then rode to the subway. Normally when I commute I always plug my ears and brain into my ipod. For some reason, today, my book was enough (P.S. if you haven’t read The Omnivore’s Dilemma I strongly recommend it). After the bus I hopped on the subway. As I sat, waiting for it to start up, I heard a song playing. It was soft and pretty. I looked around for the headphones that were way too loud, but there were none. Then a looked to end of the subway where this little old man sat alone, playing his harmonica.
So… I stood up and went to sit beside him. I read while he played for me. It was perfect. So perfect that when he stopped playing I said “please don’t stop”. He smiled and said “I’ll only play if you sing… what’s your background.” When I told him, he played a Ukrainian song for me. I had never heard it, but then he told me the title… blah blah ramble. When he finished, he told me that it had been years since he had played, but today he just felt like it.
He told me this big story about love and family.
Not sure why I’m sharing this… just felt like it I suppose.
It was perfect.
Remember when we used to talk to homeless people… I think this reminded me of that.
