Reading

burrosI encountered the man who sells dirt as I was walking to F’s house, where I had lunch and read to him. F is 97 years old and his eyesight failed him several years ago, but his wit and brain have not. He is a delightful conversationalist and we are taking a Sylvia Plath biography a chapter at a time. This is only the second time we’ve read together and already I look forward to each Wednesday.

Yesterday I took the bus to the Jovenes Adelante office and noticed the blue theme.   A blue dream catcher suspended from the rear-view mirror.  Royal blue material framing any object that could be framed.  A poster of the Virgin Guadalupe on the ceiling, another poster of a religious figure that I didn’t recognize above the driver.

Tonight D came for dinner and we had a few hours of conversation.  Cream of avocado soup, meatloaf with salsa, a chayote and tomato salad and D brought ice cream from Santa Clara’s. D said that the large crowd at the UU service was due to me, that people know me, know of me, know that I’ve been volunteering here and there and have come to like and respect me.  It’s so odd to be in this position.

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