Moments
This morning, a man and his wife sat down three tables away from me at P. Terry's. The tables are small and close, so they were about eight feet away from me.I didn't really notice them at first.
There's a hospital across the street, and many people will pass through P. Terry's as they visit someone in the hospital. I assumed that's what this couple was doing. I know all the regulars, because I have breakfast at PT every day.
I briefly looked at them before I resumed reading. They looked to be in their sixties, probably early sixties. The man was clean-shaven, and had on a gray knit shirt and slacks. The woman had dark hair, not quite to her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple dress.
They were Japanese.
I turned back to reading, Nothing to see here.
After a few minutes, I started hearing something. Their conversation. The man was speaking Japanese in a low, soft voice, and it was beautifully melodic. Occasionally, his wife spoke, and it was in the same soft, beautiful tone.
I didn't feel like I was eavesdropping, because I didn't understand what they were saying. So I just listened.
There were other people, and the music loop in the background, and the ice machine, and I heard nothing but their voices.
I did that for fifteen minutes, maybe longer, reaching a very still place inside me, and then they stood up. When the man began to walk, I was shocked, because he was clearly much older than I thought, his gait stiff and pained.
The man I thought was in his early sixties was a decade older, at least.
His wife looked at me as she walked back from putting away their trash. I nodded, and she gave me a flicker of a smile.
I stayed a few minutes longer, then got up to leave.
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