January 20, 2010, 22:33

I exited the park and crossed the old wooden bridge over Meadow Creek, which was now a respectable size, to Banfree’s Island, a neighborhood of many songs and languages. Dudley’s  neighborhood. It is a place of bright colors and tin roofs, a meander maze of winding streets crowded with people of all colors and costumes. I am never surprised any more by what I see here.
I always get lost for a while on my way to Dudley’s and this day was no exception, but finally I arrived at the right door. As I prepared to knock, I caught the scent of sweet vegetables and sticky rice. I was glad that I had saved the wine.
“Ah, my old friend!” Dudley exclaimed as he opened the door. “What are you doin’ in this part of the city at this time of night?”
I am always a little awed by Dudley’s voice when I first hear it.
“I brought some wine for the meal,” I finally said as a gentle smile spread on his broad face.
“Really? How thoughtful,” he laughed. “And it so happens I made enough for two. I was feeling hungry when I started cooking.”
We walked through the dim living room into the light filled kitchen. The first thing I noticed was the white clock radio I had fixed for him. It was playing Mozart.
“I thought I fixed that thing?” I said as I went over to check it out.
“Oh, you did, my friend! But I like the Mozart in evening when I am winding down. Now that you are here we will play the island music to liven the mood a little.”
Dudley moved past me and turned the dial. The radio emitted some fuzz, crackle and whine finally settling on a clanky, sliding groove in calypso time.
After dinner, we listened to Mozart while Dudley put the finishing touches on the dog he was crocheting. It was difficult work as the dog was becoming active and playful. Its wooden bead eyes vibrated as it panted. After a long struggle, he finally let the dog go. It raced about the room silently on its padded feet sniffing and exploring.
“You’ve gotten quite good at those,” I commented admiring its rust colored fringe and nicely rounded shape.
“I find the cats much more challenging. I can never get the body right,” Dudley mused. “Dogs are more comical and amusing. Cats must have dignity. I have not mastered that yet.”
When I woke in the morning Dudley was already out. The dog was still padding about full of curiosity. I was very careful not to let it escape on my way out.