I Write Short Stories
That Was Just Lovely...
This memory drifts through my mind on occasion and for some reason, I decided to finally put it all down.
On a crisp autumn evening about eight or nine years ago, my best friend Greg was in a play that was held at a small church in the outskirts of town. I worked in the city and loved the idea of escaping it for a while, even if it was just for a couple of hours. One of those little towns with maple trees that lined the street and small brick homes with landscaped yards that are close to each other. The church fit in-between two houses and blended in with the scenery. If you didn't know exactly where it was, you would pass it up (which I did trying to find it).
This was one of those rare occasions that I went to a function alone. I usually would go places like this with a friend or a date, but this particular evening I was going solo. It was a little awkward but I wanted to go to support my friend and it was a nice evening and I looked forward to it, even though I didn't know what to expect. Was I going to stand out because I was alone? Was I going to find anyone to talk to? Would I be looked at as a young girl with no friends? All of these things were going through my head, but my friendship with Greg was more important than me being uncomfortable for an hour or two worrying about what people may or may not be thinking about me.
I found a parking space on the main street and walked through some leaves that had fallen. I always loved the smell of cool, dark fall air and the sound of the leaves. I entered the church and was given a program and directed to the wing of the church that had the stage and the chairs for the audience. It was small. Very small. This theatre only held about 75 people so everyone had a close seat to the stage. When I found a seat and realized I was just a few feet away from the actors, I felt a little embarassed for them. All of these people looking and at such a close distance. I knew that was something I couldn't do. I gave Greg credit for wanting to do it.
The audience began to fill up and I noticed that most of the people coming in were older. I was probably the youngest one there. They looked like they were all retirement age, some approaching that time and some settled in those golden years for a while. The neighborhood was nice and you could tell that these people were dressed in well-made clothes and had provided a good life for themselves. Most of the people looked at me and smiled in a very friendly manner. It was like they were a little impressed with me that I was there alone, so I did stand out a bit, but in a good way I felt. The men had their wives on their arms or gently lead them to their seat with a gentle hand on the curve of their back. They weren't just men and women or elderly couples. They were gentlemen taking their ladies out for the evening.
I purposely sat on the end so I wouldn't have strangers on both sides of me, just empty seats to my right. A woman was being lead by her husband to the two seats next to me. Her hair looked as if she had got it done that same day and she was dressed in a very nice, tailored suit. Her husband looked distinguished in his jacket and tie and they both had on shoes that looked recently shined. The woman smiled as she approached me and said hello and her husband glanced at me and nodded as to say the same. Both seemed like very nice people.
The play started and I was surprised that I wasn't as uncomfortable with being as close to the stage as I thought I would be. The play was being well-acted out, had moments of laughter from the audience and my friend Greg looked like he was having the time of his life. Everyone on the stage did. You could tell that there were plenty of hours of rehearsal and if there was any mistakes with dialogue, you wouldn't know it. I was really enjoying myself and was so proud of my friend. He looked great up there and I knew he was probably more comfortable on that stage than anywhere else in his life.
The intermission was between Act 4 and Act 5 and soft music played while stage hands got ready for the rest of the performance. Lighting was changed and furniture was moved so everything would be in place for the next Act. I really didn't want to sit there in silence so I complimented the woman to my right on her suit and we started to talk. After she spoke a few sentences to me she asked me my name and introduced herself. She turned to her husband and introduced him and he reached over and firmly shook my hand and nodded again with a slight smile on his face. The woman and I chatted about the play, my friend who was in the play, the weather, the neighborhood, etc. We sat there and asked questions back and forth and made comments to one another. During our conversation she mentioned family. She told me that her and her husband had lost their only son during the Vietnam War and when she said it, you could see a little bit of life leave her eyes as she reflected on that. I reached over and gently patted her hand and told her I was sorry and she seemed grateful for it.
After a while the lights dimmed and the rest of the play proceeded. It was a wonderful story with an uplifting ending with lots of bowing and loud applause. Greg looked proud of himself and he should've been. He did a great job. An announcement was made that there would be refreshments in the ba<x>sement and everyone slowly exited and went downstairs.
The lights were surprisingly bright downstairs, but the area was welcoming. Linen tableclothes and rows of homemade cookies placed on lace doilies that were spread over several tables were there for the offering. One table was for beverages and they offered coffee and tea and something cold to drink. People mingled and everyone seemed happy and pleased to see everyone else. You could tell that these people were mostly all from this small town. They all seemed to know each other and hands were being shaken and hugs were given out, small pecks on the cheek and big smiles everwhere throughout the room. I got a few cookies and stood toward the wall and enjoyed watching all these lovely, well-mannered people. This was a night out for them and they were happy. I started to slowly walk around the room and traded smiles and pleasantries with a few people who I made eye contact with. I could almost see the "good to see you" words from their eyes. I walked to the other side of the room and noticed a beautiful baby grand piano. It almost looked out of place to me. This was the ba<x>sement of a church. It was clean and neat looking, but it was still a ba<x>sement with uncovered brick walls and cement flooring. The piano was shiny and looked like it belonged in a mansion and not a church ba<x>sement.
I watched as a woman sat down at the piano bench and started to play some very light classical music. So light and soft that it was barely noticeable. It didn't stop anyone from talking or mingling, it was simply to create a pleasant backdrop for people to enjoy.
There was a small table that was not with all the cookie tables, and it stood by itself toward the edge of the room. Little paper cups were being filled with a brown liquid and I was curious as to what was being offered. I walked over and this woman seemed happy that I was coming to have what she was pouring. When she handed me a cup, it was surprisingly warm. I didn't expect that and she smiled when she saw my ex<x>pression of surprise. It was mulled apple cider. It was delicious, sweet, warm and soothing. It was the perfect taste for the occasion and the season.
I stood back and absorbed it all. The sounds of the happy people. The smell of the cider and the cookies. The beautiful music in the background. The friendliness that was felt by me from a ba<x>sement full of strangers in a town I had never been before. I didn't want it to end. I didn't expect to have such a pleasant experience all alone and out of my own element, but I did.
My friend came downstairs and I hugged him and told him I was proud of him. I knew he needed to mingle with his co-stars and the audience and I didn't want to have all of his attention so I told him it was getting late and I had a long drive home. He insisted on walking me upstairs to the door, we gave each other pecks on the cheek and I left the church.
It had drizzled a little and the road and sidewalks were black and shiny and the air was very still. Once I crossed the street, I couldn't hear the people or the music from the church. I could only hear my footsteps as I approached my car. I sat in the driver's seat and turned the key and heard that all-too-familiar humming from my car's engine and it was time to go home. My lovely interlude with the friendly strangers and the apple cider was over. As I drove away, I looked in my mirror and thought to myself, "That was just lovely". I really never used the word "lovely" too much in my life, but it was so appropriate for the time I had. A lovely memory. A lovely experience.
This memory drifts through my mind on occasion and for some reason, I decided to finally put it all down.
On a crisp autumn evening about eight or nine years ago, my best friend Greg was in a play that was held at a small church in the outskirts of town. I worked in the city and loved the idea of escaping it for a while, even if it was just for a couple of hours. One of those little towns with maple trees that lined the street and small brick homes with landscaped yards that are close to each other. The church fit in-between two houses and blended in with the scenery. If you didn't know exactly where it was, you would pass it up (which I did trying to find it).
This was one of those rare occasions that I went to a function alone. I usually would go places like this with a friend or a date, but this particular evening I was going solo. It was a little awkward but I wanted to go to support my friend and it was a nice evening and I looked forward to it, even though I didn't know what to expect. Was I going to stand out because I was alone? Was I going to find anyone to talk to? Would I be looked at as a young girl with no friends? All of these things were going through my head, but my friendship with Greg was more important than me being uncomfortable for an hour or two worrying about what people may or may not be thinking about me.
I found a parking space on the main street and walked through some leaves that had fallen. I always loved the smell of cool, dark fall air and the sound of the leaves. I entered the church and was given a program and directed to the wing of the church that had the stage and the chairs for the audience. It was small. Very small. This theatre only held about 75 people so everyone had a close seat to the stage. When I found a seat and realized I was just a few feet away from the actors, I felt a little embarassed for them. All of these people looking and at such a close distance. I knew that was something I couldn't do. I gave Greg credit for wanting to do it.
The audience began to fill up and I noticed that most of the people coming in were older. I was probably the youngest one there. They looked like they were all retirement age, some approaching that time and some settled in those golden years for a while. The neighborhood was nice and you could tell that these people were dressed in well-made clothes and had provided a good life for themselves. Most of the people looked at me and smiled in a very friendly manner. It was like they were a little impressed with me that I was there alone, so I did stand out a bit, but in a good way I felt. The men had their wives on their arms or gently lead them to their seat with a gentle hand on the curve of their back. They weren't just men and women or elderly couples. They were gentlemen taking their ladies out for the evening.
I purposely sat on the end so I wouldn't have strangers on both sides of me, just empty seats to my right. A woman was being lead by her husband to the two seats next to me. Her hair looked as if she had got it done that same day and she was dressed in a very nice, tailored suit. Her husband looked distinguished in his jacket and tie and they both had on shoes that looked recently shined. The woman smiled as she approached me and said hello and her husband glanced at me and nodded as to say the same. Both seemed like very nice people.
The play started and I was surprised that I wasn't as uncomfortable with being as close to the stage as I thought I would be. The play was being well-acted out, had moments of laughter from the audience and my friend Greg looked like he was having the time of his life. Everyone on the stage did. You could tell that there were plenty of hours of rehearsal and if there was any mistakes with dialogue, you wouldn't know it. I was really enjoying myself and was so proud of my friend. He looked great up there and I knew he was probably more comfortable on that stage than anywhere else in his life.
The intermission was between Act 4 and Act 5 and soft music played while stage hands got ready for the rest of the performance. Lighting was changed and furniture was moved so everything would be in place for the next Act. I really didn't want to sit there in silence so I complimented the woman to my right on her suit and we started to talk. After she spoke a few sentences to me she asked me my name and introduced herself. She turned to her husband and introduced him and he reached over and firmly shook my hand and nodded again with a slight smile on his face. The woman and I chatted about the play, my friend who was in the play, the weather, the neighborhood, etc. We sat there and asked questions back and forth and made comments to one another. During our conversation she mentioned family. She told me that her and her husband had lost their only son during the Vietnam War and when she said it, you could see a little bit of life leave her eyes as she reflected on that. I reached over and gently patted her hand and told her I was sorry and she seemed grateful for it.
After a while the lights dimmed and the rest of the play proceeded. It was a wonderful story with an uplifting ending with lots of bowing and loud applause. Greg looked proud of himself and he should've been. He did a great job. An announcement was made that there would be refreshments in the ba<x>sement and everyone slowly exited and went downstairs.
The lights were surprisingly bright downstairs, but the area was welcoming. Linen tableclothes and rows of homemade cookies placed on lace doilies that were spread over several tables were there for the offering. One table was for beverages and they offered coffee and tea and something cold to drink. People mingled and everyone seemed happy and pleased to see everyone else. You could tell that these people were mostly all from this small town. They all seemed to know each other and hands were being shaken and hugs were given out, small pecks on the cheek and big smiles everwhere throughout the room. I got a few cookies and stood toward the wall and enjoyed watching all these lovely, well-mannered people. This was a night out for them and they were happy. I started to slowly walk around the room and traded smiles and pleasantries with a few people who I made eye contact with. I could almost see the "good to see you" words from their eyes. I walked to the other side of the room and noticed a beautiful baby grand piano. It almost looked out of place to me. This was the ba<x>sement of a church. It was clean and neat looking, but it was still a ba<x>sement with uncovered brick walls and cement flooring. The piano was shiny and looked like it belonged in a mansion and not a church ba<x>sement.
I watched as a woman sat down at the piano bench and started to play some very light classical music. So light and soft that it was barely noticeable. It didn't stop anyone from talking or mingling, it was simply to create a pleasant backdrop for people to enjoy.
There was a small table that was not with all the cookie tables, and it stood by itself toward the edge of the room. Little paper cups were being filled with a brown liquid and I was curious as to what was being offered. I walked over and this woman seemed happy that I was coming to have what she was pouring. When she handed me a cup, it was surprisingly warm. I didn't expect that and she smiled when she saw my ex<x>pression of surprise. It was mulled apple cider. It was delicious, sweet, warm and soothing. It was the perfect taste for the occasion and the season.
I stood back and absorbed it all. The sounds of the happy people. The smell of the cider and the cookies. The beautiful music in the background. The friendliness that was felt by me from a ba<x>sement full of strangers in a town I had never been before. I didn't want it to end. I didn't expect to have such a pleasant experience all alone and out of my own element, but I did.
My friend came downstairs and I hugged him and told him I was proud of him. I knew he needed to mingle with his co-stars and the audience and I didn't want to have all of his attention so I told him it was getting late and I had a long drive home. He insisted on walking me upstairs to the door, we gave each other pecks on the cheek and I left the church.
It had drizzled a little and the road and sidewalks were black and shiny and the air was very still. Once I crossed the street, I couldn't hear the people or the music from the church. I could only hear my footsteps as I approached my car. I sat in the driver's seat and turned the key and heard that all-too-familiar humming from my car's engine and it was time to go home. My lovely interlude with the friendly strangers and the apple cider was over. As I drove away, I looked in my mirror and thought to myself, "That was just lovely". I really never used the word "lovely" too much in my life, but it was so appropriate for the time I had. A lovely memory. A lovely experience.
56-60, F
