Can you speak German?

The woman who sat down next to me had a mug and a bottle of Creemore. Maybe it was twelve o’clock, whenever it was, we said good morning to each other. We talked about the weather. Like a European day, she said. She was a nostalgic German, teary-eyed about the approaching anniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall. She asked me had I been to Europe and I said I had not. She doesn’t not like Canada, it’s just, “well”, there’s something...
I asked her why she came here and she said it was maybe because of her husband, she guesses, and for a “good life”, and things here used to be different anyway. Now that she has raised her kids here, she said, I don’t know. It’s a lot to lose, she said, your language, your culture. Just T.V. here, and everybody shut up with their flickering light boxes. Laws and bylaws. One thing goes wrong once and there’s a new law to “protect” us. She was finished with her drink. And so “healthy” here, she said. She invited a neighbour for coffee and she said she doesn’t drink coffee. Not even coffee, just tea. And nobody has a beer Sunday after church, god forbid. Her legs were draped over the arm of her seat and 2 flies were next to each other on the crease of her pants. More was said. More praise was given to the fine weather before she left me to get along with my work. The ladybug fell from my hair onto my lap.