I just spent two delightful hours with my dear neighbour Dirk, enjoying the breakfast he had prepared for me.  The food, though, was a small part of the story.

Our conversation soared and dived through the joys and sorrows of two lives.  It was real.  It was love.

I don’t know how to do “small talk” and neither does Dirk.  It’s a skill I happily do without.  For without the soul infusing our words, why do we bother speaking?  It’s an empty shell of what could be in the precious moments we share.

At one point, I mentioned that I’m here on the planet to write.  And not a diary.  I want to touch people with my stories.  Because life is a concert hall, not a closet.

I post just about every day on Facebook and Jetpack.  Usually I get zero or two likes and zero or one comments.  So I don’t know if I’m reaching other human beings.

Dirk’s response?  “It doesn’t matter how many.” 

And he told me a story …

He was a theatre director and once presented the play La Forza del Destino at La Monnaie, a performing arts centre in Brussels.  About 1000 people were in the audience.

At the end was a standing ovation.  I don’t know if it was true or “sort of”, where folks look to see what their neighbours are doing before standing.

Dirk talked to little groups of theatergoers in the lobby as the hall emptied.  Much appreciation came his way, of the polite variety.

And then a couple in their 80’s, balanced with their canes, came forward.  The woman’s eyes met Dirk’s and she said “That was so beautiful, Mr. Tanghe.”

Her husband beamed and said “You’ve made our day.”

***

That moment was many years ago

The director remembers

And three days were made