i stood outside spice island tea house today in oakland as i do on one friday afternoon a month. i watched as people walked by. each person carries their own unique walk. gates, strides, steps, shuffles. my eyes weaved through the crowds, weeding out those i didn't recognize, looking for the one i did. ah, there it was. a walk as familiar to me as the face and the voice. i recognized it before i could even see his face. ian's walk. hands in the pockets, angled slightly forward, each step deliberately made, but not in sacrifice to appearing comfortable and assured.
it's one of those every day joys you think about over breakfast. knowing someone well enough to recognize their walk.
good friend. good food. good tea. good talk. this is what friday afternoons should be about.
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