There is a warmth in the air that wasn’t present just a few short days ago. The weekend brought sunshine also, a lovely surprise. And so once again, Little Italy is abuzz with passersby and motorbikes, the sound of soccer fans flooding the streets after every game and the silence of pedestrians cradling freshly made gelato on their tongues. Michael Angelo has moved back to his spot between the Diesel store and the corner ‘Bucks, his season finally arrived. Do you believe in Magic? I ask him as I walk by every time. And I smile at the expected answer I never stop wanting to hear. Of course I do! Ever since I was a little boy. Ever since I was this big...
The street vendors have taken their wares out of hibernation; the patios are filled well into the night already. My proprietors have turned off the pilot light to the boiler of this centenarian brownstone, the ultimate sign of my personal spring arrived. I have doubled my duvet layers and taken out my thick, flannelette, down-to-the-ground nightgowns to compensate for the still near zero sleeping conditions.
The daffodils in my neighbours’ yards have finally sprung! Oh what a very late spring it is. The more exciting become the tulips and other perennials sprouting and dotting the yards in red and purple and yellow along my avenue. Without a garden of my own, they allow me to live vicariously through them during the warm seasons. And they’re just as pleased to show off the life they feared they may have failed somehow, like a pregnancy not brought to term.
Comin’ along, eh? a new neighbour asked today, in need of a cheering section. I do not mention the bald spots on his lawn, rather I keep my eyes on the miniature flowers he has pointed out a couple metres away. Yes! It’s really coming along. But he searches my face for more as he says, It’ll be even better tomorrow.
No doubt, I tell the sweet stranger. Yes, no doubt. One day at a time, right?