Stranger.

So perhaps I have not been keeping my promise. Bagging one good identity a week is proving difficult , when I myself am in a new place every 4 days or less. I tend to be the stranger, the one looking to tell stories and share times.

Today I was lucky though.

I walked into the Cornerstone Cafe shortly before your average dinner time. Collapsing at the bar, my dear friend and server brought me a water. I could feel the stickiness long days work being cooled from inside out with each sip of the icey beverage. It wasn't long before I was lost in space.

The man next to me spoke very quietly, if it weren't for the lack of other ears, I would never have thought he was tugging on mine.

"where have I seen you before?"  To look straight in his eyes was to look into another world. He had dark skin, short, well trimmed  curly black hair and a striped shirt pinned him as a professional. I would have tagged him as at least mid thirties." um, I don't know, perhaps at the elora gorge? I am a zip line instructor there..." I roll off, but he doesn't even notice. " was it planet bean?"
I shot that out of the air, never having been to the bean.

" Not many people are so polite, I am tempted to ask you to go get a behr with me" he whispers again.

Usually this could be played off as a creepy old man comment, but there was something genuine about this one. He was looking for a friend. " I ignored his request and went on to say that I was here just to visit my friend Ali, we used to be roommates." On cue Ali walked over with two empty pint glasses, filling them for a table outside. " Ali" called the man.
She looked up startled.
"Hello, I only know your name because she just mentioned it"  Between the thick accent and the muffler through which this man spoke it was surprising either of us could hear anything at all. She smiled and continued with her work. He turned back to me.
"in my country, we do not wave. we do not even just shake hands. we share. Like this. "

With that, the man extended his hand to me, clutching the wrist with his other. I followed suit, standing up and bowing my head as we shook. " do you miss your home country?" I asked.

Yes, yes he did. He missed the community and the culture. But he was ever grateful for Canada, and how blessed his family is here. The opportunities really are endless.

Nagey is from ethiopia. In his country, no one would ever order a meal alone, nor even drink a coffee. Everything must be shared. I could see in his eyes that he was straining to make amends with this new, individualistic culture. Six years may have changed his wadrobe, his language and even his diet, but it had not changed his drive for human contact, human connection. For a moment I questioned my own drive to be alone in some of my actions. I questioned what it might look like to someone who is new to such a young country to see people who are so separated from their families, and by choice no less.

He asked me again to join him for a beer, and as ashamed as I am, I declined. Perhaps I was just not open to the idea of leaving with a stranger. Perhaps it was intelligent, or perhaps it was just the mistrust that is bred into our society. Where do community and society meet. When did I become the stranger?

The man stood to leave and as he did I met him on my feet, We extended hands, shook and bowed. I thanked him for his company and he left.

Once again I was alone at the bar.

WHEN I GROW UP.

I want to be a righter.

I want to write about things and make the world right by doing so.

What a ridiculous statement.


... When I grow up.