A Way of Listening

I step off the bus and look up, and there is Dee standing outside the cafe', waving. We sit at a long table, and I read her a short story of mine. "That's gorgeous," she says, "read it again." Dee has a way of listening. She brings all of herself to it. Like she is thrilled I have written something and she gets to hear it. I have never met anyone who listens to writing with such enthusiasm. I finish reading. "Ahh," she says, like I have made her year. "Send it out. You can't keep that to yourself."