Memories Pt. 30

fall or winter, our first

You were visiting my house and it was cold. I kept my house cold, I liked it and was poor. The roommate didn't pay utilities.

You had come over to see me. We wanted to do something, to get out of the house. You had five dollars to your name. I think I had less.

We went for a walk. It was cold. We held hands. You liked to interlock our fingers. I prefered the comfort of palm to palm. You always won.

We wandered down Bloor, east towards the annex. No plan, just walking.

Want to grab a coffee, I suggested.

'Its too late. I have to get up early. How about a tea?'

Tea it is.

Stopping at the coffee shop at dovercourt, we got tea. Me lemon, you mint.

And headed south.

Turning west again, we went looking at the houses. Our first stop was a bench in front of a church, not far south and not far west off dovercourt. We sat and let our tea cool, breathing clouds as we talked about our days.

'Can you hear that?'

Yeah. Were is it coming from?, I replied

Looking down, toward the church, we saw we were standing in front of a row of basement windows, well lit from the inside.

Sitting there, a old heavy set man was playing a well tuned piano in his shabby well worn suit. He was practicing some classical piece I won't remember. And he was good.

We were speechless. Drinking our tea, listening to this man pour out his soul on an old stand up piano alone in a church basement.

Inching closer, keeping warm we shared, in silence, our private concert.

It was magical.

A moment like no other.

But we had a lot of those.