Margo

About a year ago I was studying Russian language on an online site when I was first introduced to Margo.  I had been working with my tutor and she gave me a translation to decode.  It was a simple story: a young woman named Margo navigated her way through a Russian market and challenged herself to learn the nouns and phrases that are required to identify what she wanted, converse with shopkeepers and ultimately get her groceries back to her house to make dinner.  Easy stuff for a student of language like myself.  I was at home that night, working through the translation and, becoming tired from my labor, I decided it was time to take my pups for a walk.

It was pretty late that summer night.  The hot air blanketed us as we opened the door of my apartment building and strode onto the streets.   Down the sidewalks, my crew of salty dogs traversed past the gates of pompous townhomes while I slodded along behind them, my mind lost in thought.  Shadow pulled a stick out of a neighbor’s garden.  Boss stood by my side, judging my pace.

We turned the corner and out of the darkness a figure appeared.  At first, I was taken aback.  I wasn’t used to running into people at this late hour.  With a quick whistle, my pups came to my side and we gauged this stranger.  She seemed to be unafraid of the giant German Shepherd Dog and the giant Human Being Man who crossed her path.

With a kind sprightliness and an energy I hadn’t encountered in a long time, she exacted, “How’s your evening? Beautiful dogs.”

 “Evening’s just fine,” I gruffed at her. “How is yours?”  The dogs circled me.

“Just fine,” she beamed. “It’s a late night and I wanted to take a walk.  I see you also like late-night walks. Why are you walking tonight?”

A million thoughts crossed my mind after hearing that question.  Why was I walking that night?  What unresolved thoughts perplexed me as I strolled the darkened streets? While a seemingly-unending train of ponderings continually flowed like a rushing river through my mind as I walked through the darkness, I hadn’t stopped to ask the simple question: Why?

But I answered her simply, “Just wanted some fresh air.  What’s your name?.”

“Margo,” she said.

In an instant, I flashed back to the Russian translations I had been deciphering that night.  I remembered Margo from the story I pieced together through two diametrically opposite languages.  In the translation, she was just an imaginary person, full of life and living within the pages of academic study. But now, Margo was standing right in front of me.  I could see her eyes. I could see her face.  I could hear her words.  She was real.

Margo and I sat at that corner and talked for over an hour.  The dogs kept circling us, and our conversation blossomed.

That was about a year ago.  Margo and I recently spent the evening together and nothing has changed except the stories have gotten better.  She continues to illuminate my life and I try to hang on. 

The best people in life are those who steal you from this hard world and give you a moment to take a step back and ask yourself, “Why are you walking tonight?”