Michael and I did not know when the waiter put the plates on our table. At
the time we were sitting in a small restaurant, hidden from the busy Third
Street, in New York City.
Event the smell of fresh serving blintze did not interfered our
conversation. Infact, we let the blintze soaked in the sour cream. We just
enjoy the conversation too much that we forgot to eat.
Our conversation was so delighted though we did not speak about important
things. We laughing and speaking about the movie which we have just watched
the night before and arguing about the meaning in our literatur seminar. He
told me about the maturity step to adulthood when he only responded if
someone called him "Michael" and pretend not to hear if they called him
"Mikey". Was that at the age 12 or 14 ?
He did not remember but he recalled his mother cried and said that he became
a man too fast.
When we tasted the blueberry blintzes, i told him that my brother and i used
to pick wild blueberry when visiting our cousins in the farm. I remembered i
always finished ate my share before we went home and my aunt always warning
i must be had a stomachache. But of course, it never happened.
While our fun conversation continued, my eyes went across the room and stop
on the corner. A couple of old folks sit in there. The woman wearing the
flower dress with faded color, the same with the pillow where she laid her
pallid handbag. The man's top head shined just like the boiled egg which he
ate very slowly. The woman chewed her oatmeal very slowly too, seemed with
very much much effort.
But what made my mind thought about them was the silence around them. It
seemed like the melancholy emptiness filled their corner. When our
conversation became the whisper, from the confession to judges, the silence
of the couple disturbed me. How sadden, I thought, if there was nothing at
all to talk about. Was there any pages in each other's life they had not
How if it happened to us ?
Michael and I paid our food and went on. When we passed the corner where the
couple sat, my wallet fallen. When I stooped to get it, I saw, under the
table, they were tenderly holding each other's hand. They were eating in
silence while holding each other's hand ! I stood upright.
I was very touched to see the simple yet the very meaningful action
reflecting the close relationship of the couple. I felt special allowing to
The tender caress the old man's hand to his wife's wrinkle and tired
fingers, filled, not only what i though was an empty corner, but it filled
my heart too.
Their silence was not the uncomfortable emptiness like the one we used to
have after the jokes we had on our first date. It was not that. Their
silence was the pleasant and relaxing one, it was the expression of the
tender love and it did not always need the words to express it.
They might spent the hours like these in the morning. Maybe this morning was
no different from yesterday, but they enjoyed it with peace. They receiving
their partner for what they are.
When I and Michael out of the restorant, I thought, maybe it was nothing bad
at all if some day we have something like that. Maybe, it will become the
expression of the tender and complete love.