Stories of an Alley

Every alley has a story nadinewouldsay

“Are we meeting at your house or my house?”

“I’m at your house already.”

“Oh. Okay. On my way!”

I played her piano while I waited for her to arrive, having used the spare key to sneak on in. I practiced for this coming Sunday, proclaiming truths over myself through the words as I waited for her foot on the stairs outside.

Eventually she walked in and soon after I suggested we take our tea to go and walk all the way to the end of the street and back.

We put tea in regular cups from the cupboard because that felt more fun than travel mugs.

Boots on – and light clothes because apparently October is just a cool summer’s day instead of chilly fall these days – we wandered slowly to avoid tea spilling.

I had warned her before leaving that I was bringing my phone in anticipation of discovering magic along our walk.

As soon as possible, we left the street and entered an alley.

I’m a firm believer that every alley has a good story simply waiting to be told. All I have to do is take a walk with willing eyes.

Noticers have willing eyes to see.

For the next while, I kept my phone out. I commented about all the things, about flowers and spiders and purple trims on ugly garages.

She commented too. Don’t worry. I didn’t completely monopolize. I just kind of monopolized.

I took a lot of pictures and made her take pictures of me too. Because #fridayintroductions on instagram and because sometimes you just need a picture taken of you holding up part of a disregarded table like a picture frame. Right?

Noticers write the stories of the alley.

We wandered for a long time. I had forgotten that the end of the street was a long ways down.

We covered a lot of topics. Birthday parties and future homes, living as single, joking about how we will act towards singles when we are married (I have a very fun sarcastic voice in case you ever are sad about being single and want to laugh at yourself and also laugh at married people. It's super fun. Well, it's funny to me and to my besties.)

Eventually my phone was put away, the tea was finished, and chats continued.

I don’t think we talked about deep things. There were no tears. There was no major truths spoken over each other. It was just a simple time of friendship.

Noticers are okay with conversations staying simple.

Or at least this noticer is.

Are you an alley walker like me? Where do you go to find magic? There’s a spot, 37th and Clark if you're going north where the view of my city is absolutely my favourite. I’ll drive out of my way to catch that view. There’s a bench in the shade on campus that gets avoided because shade that I love because I get to just sit by myself and think. There’s a spot in the corner of my couch that feels like home. It’s all worn in and not as clean as the rest of the couch but it’s magic.

Are you a noticer? I hope so.

Where’s your magic? Where do you go to write the story of the alley? What story are you writing?