Winning
Around the corner from me is a smoke shop. It's changed hands a few times in the last few years, but it's always cold in the summer and hot in the winter so nothing's really changed. It's a small shop that only manages to fit three people comfortably, four if we all politely maneuver our bodies.
A year ago a man from Ethiopia bought it and took over with his wife covering the counter whenever he wasn't there. She is beautiful. Her skin is the color of a dark latte, she wears braces on her white teeth and smiles like she is proud of their placement. Her eyes are dark like obsidian and they actually shine. I swear they do.
They had a baby 9 months ago on a Tuesday and he gave away free cigars the next week. I like him alot. He smiles just like his wife and speaks animatedly about basketball and soccer. During the world cup he began calling me Friend, after I called him that one day. We both wanted Italy to win but enjoyed the entire competition anyway. During the games I would go to his shop and stand and watch with him and we would yell for anything, good or bad.
It wasn't always this way though.
I used to go in and see him and he would say "What you want?" and I would tell him and he would throw it on the counter and tell me: "Four dollar fifty." I'd give him the money and he would say "See you" and wave his hand to scoot me out the door. I wasn't statisfied with that though. I wanted to know his name and his wife's name and I wanted to learn how to say "hello friend" in his language. See, I've always wanted to learn every language I could retain or at least hear and roll around my own mouth. Call it selfish, but the more stories I learn about people and their own lives, the more I grow. So I called him Friend everytime I saw him and asked him about futbol so much that he gave me The Smile.
I saw him this morning and he said "Hello Friend! Did you see the Brazil Argentina match?" I told him no I didn't know it was on but he promised to tell me the next time he sees one.
I asked after his wife and his new daughter and he told me to come to the shop sometime and say hello. It wasn't until I watched him cross the street to his shop that I realised I've never known his name. I guess it doesn't really matter though, I figure I'm still gonna call him Friend.
A year ago a man from Ethiopia bought it and took over with his wife covering the counter whenever he wasn't there. She is beautiful. Her skin is the color of a dark latte, she wears braces on her white teeth and smiles like she is proud of their placement. Her eyes are dark like obsidian and they actually shine. I swear they do.
They had a baby 9 months ago on a Tuesday and he gave away free cigars the next week. I like him alot. He smiles just like his wife and speaks animatedly about basketball and soccer. During the world cup he began calling me Friend, after I called him that one day. We both wanted Italy to win but enjoyed the entire competition anyway. During the games I would go to his shop and stand and watch with him and we would yell for anything, good or bad.
It wasn't always this way though.
I used to go in and see him and he would say "What you want?" and I would tell him and he would throw it on the counter and tell me: "Four dollar fifty." I'd give him the money and he would say "See you" and wave his hand to scoot me out the door. I wasn't statisfied with that though. I wanted to know his name and his wife's name and I wanted to learn how to say "hello friend" in his language. See, I've always wanted to learn every language I could retain or at least hear and roll around my own mouth. Call it selfish, but the more stories I learn about people and their own lives, the more I grow. So I called him Friend everytime I saw him and asked him about futbol so much that he gave me The Smile.
I saw him this morning and he said "Hello Friend! Did you see the Brazil Argentina match?" I told him no I didn't know it was on but he promised to tell me the next time he sees one.
I asked after his wife and his new daughter and he told me to come to the shop sometime and say hello. It wasn't until I watched him cross the street to his shop that I realised I've never known his name. I guess it doesn't really matter though, I figure I'm still gonna call him Friend.
posted by Shirina Grimaldi | 9/16/2006 05:20:00 PM
6 Comments:
what a nice picture you have painted with your words. hope you are well and happy.
Hello friend.
Great Story.....it was nice reading your post again....
It,s nice to read you again...
wow. i have missed your writing so very much. i'll be sure to drop in more often from now on. im glad you have people to smile at you, that you can see smiling at you everyday. im sure you brighten up their lives as much as they do yours.
missed you.
g.g.
Where have you BEEN?
Anyway, do you have a different e-mail so I can send a private post?
The strangest thing is that about a week I was thinking about you, how you were such a great writer and composed great poems with those magnets on my fridge. I've read some of this blog already and it's great...how come you're not still writing?
I just read your message last night and wanted to reply but was too tired.
Love
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