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At Castlefrank Station in October a mother and daughter got on the subway. Mother had a sleeping baby slung on her chest. Daughter was two and a bit, with blond curls. She immediately plopped herself on the empty seat beside me, looked straight at me and said, "Hello." I answered. She said, "Are you reading?" I said yes, showing her my book, and then told her my book didn't have any pictures. But at home, I said, I have books with pictures.
She said, "Why?" H'm-m. Hard to answer. I said, "Are you going to school now?" (her mother had mentioned it). She said yes. I said, "So am I." "Why?" "Because I still have a lot to learn."
I said, "Do you like school?" A blank look followed by "yes."
"Do you play with friends at school?" Another yes.
By now we were at Broadview Station, her stop as well as mine. She walked between her mother and me, with her mother holding one hand. I held out my hand on the other side and she took it. On the escalator the two adults escorted her up the high-rising steps, then again on the second escalator. The whole time she looked at me, cocking her head and smiling. Their bus was waiting and as I U-turned to go to the street, I had to nudge her hand away. By this time she was just holding on to my right pinkie, very tightly. I said goodbye. She turned a couple of times to look at me before she forgot me and moved on to the bus and the rest of her life.
I went onto the street. Crossing to the south side of the Danforth I passed two very tall young men, early to mid-thirties, who were chatting in front of the fish restaurant. Their voices were deep and slightly raspy, and I wondered if they were brothers, because the voices were so similar. As I passed them they were taking leave of each other and planning to meet up again at some other place and time.
When I had walked fifteen feet beyond that spot, one of them called to me: "Miss!" (Miss??) When I turned he asked if I knew of a convenience store in the neighbourhood and I had to tell him I didn't know the area well. Then I asked him (we were both walking in the same direction) whether he and the other man were brothers. He said no, but they were from the same place in England. I hadn't noted the accent, just the deepness of their voices, I told him.
--Well, he said, maybe it's because we're both tall.
I said my son is tall and has a deep voice. So we agreed that deep voices come from resonating the whole length and depth of tall bodies. Then he turned off in search of his convenience store.
I turned east at the next corner, walking on the north side even though the sun dappling through the trees was blindingly bright. About halfway to my destination a front garden sported the most beautiful yellow rose bush I've ever seen, in full October bloom. I moved closer to it and, sure enough, it had the lovely scent that is sometimes bred out of roses. I took the time to stop and smell these yellow roses.
All of these delights took place in less than an hour of my morning.
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