#153
Lydia called and said to come over so I did.
Me: Your neighbourhood has everything you need.
Her: Why do you think I live here?
Me: A butcher, a baker, a greengrocer, two cafes, a pizzeria and a restaurant that anyone would be glad to call their local.
Her: What’s your point?
Over at the cafe, which in the evening is more of a bar, an old man sits with a small glass of beer playing lottery scratch cards and smoking. Inside the clinking of china as the barista loads cups and saucers into the dishwasher.
Me: I like this place because they don’t do takeout.
Her: True.
Me: And it’s laptop free.
Her: Also true.
Being with Lydia is like stepping back in time of time we’re able to be stepped into. The way she holds a glass or say the way she puts an outfit together. Her tempo in life doesn’t seem to match our current era.
Me: Your tempo in life. It connects with me.
Her: Thanks.
Me: This neighbourhood feels like you.
Her: I know.
Later, we’re back at her place and I can hear a church bell ringing the top of the hour while I sort through her fridge looking for something to eat. The sun is still out and it feels early, even if it’s late.
Her: I’ll pick up pizzas.
Me: I’ll come.
Her: I figured you would.
The pizzas are ready in five minutes and we take them and sit in the square while the last of the sunlight tips to the west, I get two beers from the cafe. A dog is asleep under a table. A few pigeons crowd nearby. The air is sweet and green and things feel like they will all be ok.