I miss long, leisurely afternoons of smooth jazz and humming espresso machines. A stack of stories. A spiral-bound notebook. The perfect pen. And all the time in the world.
I miss scones and spinach quiche and sides of fresh fruit.
I miss creamy lattes in a ceramic to-stay mug, frothy and heaping with whipped cream and chocolate and peppermint. Piping hot.
I miss headphones. I miss getting lost in a novel. Looking up to see the sun leaning drowsily on a painted windowsill. Listening.
I miss no place to be. Or every place to be. No one waiting. Or at least no one expecting.
I miss that deep breath. That drag of crisp winter air stepping out through a tingling wooden door. The crisp blast that brings me back to the world out of the corner chair by the window. Feet curled up. Shoes off. Steaming cup. Daydreaming of days far ahead.
Days far ahead when coffee shops are for college students. Or business deals. Or young professionals. A day long in the future when coffee shops are drive-thru only, sandwiched between pickup lines and PTO meetings and practices and fraught with limitations never imagined. Limitations never wanted. But who oh so badly wanted me.
A day in the far tomorrow. When coffee doesn’t stay hot. And inhaling so many cold meals brews the reality that today’s avocado toast will never fill the gap. When there are so many questions and needs. So many humans wanting so very much that there is very little left to pour.
Today is fleeting.
Words a jumble between deadlines and timelines and grocery lists. Ears listen, expecting children to call. Checking the clock again. And again. Not sure what to do with still legs, or a quiet mouth, or empty bags. Everyone is watching this awkward, out of place mom struggling to type her thoughts on a sticky, fingerprinted laptop.
There is no lingering until the sun goes down. Or pouring into a book only to hear the key turn in the door as the last hot mug is served. Those days are gone.
And I miss coffee shops. I miss long days of the most important, unimportant things. I miss aloneness, but I dare not whisper that too loudly. I miss being lost. Lost in the steam. Lost in the books. Lost in the script. Lost in the bustle of a faraway city street. Lost in the daydreams of that life before this.
That life long, lazy days ago when I used to sit in coffee shops.
Huddled over a hot latte, scribbling in a journal, faster than the words could pour from my heart…
Praying, praying, praying.
Praying for love and warm hugs and cold coffee and cozy fires in a cluttered living room.
Praying for family meals and Christmas plays and fuzzy hats and pink noses.
Praying to get lost under piles of blankets and children and popcorn and Christmas movies.
Praying, praying, praying for the life I live now.
