A real friend
Today, my fitness trainer informed me that his absolute favorite is “Belvedere”. I hear this confession from him in every our lesson. To his credit, he does not say much beyond that. Following our routine, I asked if he had tried “Chopin”. The coach shook his shaven head that reminded me of a soccer ball. “This is also Polish vodka,” I added. “They just recently released its wheat variety.”
Polish, wheat! And suddenly a story surfaced in my memory that I painfully tried to recall all morning.
Here is how it was. I sat on a bench and, as usual, played with my iPhone. Accidentally poking at an unfamiliar face, I invited him to enter the Bond of Electronic Friendship. He answered immediately: just started filling out an electronic form for joining in the relationship. His name is Wacława. Must be a Pole, at least he writes to me in Polish. I was about to respond that invited him to be my facebook friend by mistake. But then I thought that it is fine to let him be a friend. Maybe he will “like” some of my posts.
Suddenly the door to the hut, next to the place I sat, opened wide and here he comes. We immediately recognized each other. After all, we are friends. He is wearing a pile of disheveled wheat hair on his head and a broad smile on his face. It turns out that he and his family just arrived for permanent residency in the United States. Presently his father emerged, doing some handy work with his big hands of a kind-hearted giant. He smiles at me too.
“So we are neighbors!”, say I, “I live across the road. And we just found a lot of stuff at home that we want to get rid off so we’ll give it all to you ... .”
Wacława grimaced squeamishly. А proud Pole he is!
“Clothes are good, almost unworn. There is also some furniture. After all, we ate and slept for the first ten years in the USA on what we found in the garbage. True, it was academically oriented garbage. Students moved from place to place and put out pretty decent trash.”
He smiles again and tells me about his new job.