So I got away last night. I drove up to the plaza and walked around despite the rain and the cold. That’s what hoodies are for, anyway. I stopped in Barnes and Noble where I found an interesting sign for one of their featured book tables. It read, “Understanding Our World.”
I laugh at the sign. If only it were that easy. Pick up a few books at B&N and be elightened into the innerworkings of the world.
I meandered over to the world history shelves. The History of South Africa….of Spain…of Rome. Hitler’s book, “Mein Kampf” I love WWII history for some reason. Anne Frank was my hero growing up.
After a while, I went back to walking. Across the street from me was this lady playing an oboe. It’s been a while since I’ve seen an oboe. She pulled some really great warmth from it. I darted across the street. I knew I didn’t have any money (I didn’t even leave the house with my purse.) But I had to talk to her.
I pulled up in front of her chair and just started out telling her how beautiful her music was. I wasn’t lying. Or exaggerating. It really, truly was. How I was walking across the street by Sharper Image and heard her. How it warmed me up on a chilly night. I apologized that I didn’t have any money, but asked her if she played out on the street frequently.
With her wind-battered, chapped lips…cracking her skin as she smiled, she said that she played out there almost every night. Especially this week, because it’s race week at the speedway. She told me how she was having “one of those weeks” where it seemed like nothing was going right for her. I told her I knew a little bit how she felt. She said she’d be out there this weekend again. I hope I can find her. It won’t be hard if she’s playing the way she was playing late last night.