The Coffeehouse in Me

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been coming here for over 15 years.
Does time even exist here?
It is only my memories that signify time has passed…

I sipped a toasted almond and enjoyed the feeling of my lips growing plump in response to my company.

My friends, both new and old, discussed life and the afterlife, believed to be a possibility to some and to others, as impossible as - well, predicting the future.

I read here by myself, occasionally trying to see out of the frosted window to enjoy the gray, a sign of the thunderstorms that I love.

I entered an imaginary universe with a friend as we gazed into a mirrored table for way too long.

I experienced calm before skankin’ at a nearby concert. Not ‘skankin’ like the girl in the revealing get-up, but skankin’ as in dancing to ska.

I studied and wrote amidst the laughter of strangers.

My thoughts came slower. Of course it took longer for them to arrive because they traveled from a far deeper place.

Love blossomed (cue “Let’s Fall in Love” on the coffeehouse soundtrack)
Love died
Love was shared
Love was described

I talked
I listened
I worried
I was comforted
I observed
I embraced my book
I embraced others

I was where I was at and it was where it was at.
Is still where I am, even as I sit at my desk at home.
The coffeehouse is located there, but I feel it inside.
It is a feeling, a memory, a meditation
It is the solitude of always existing.

Can a place be eternal?
If so, let this place be eternal.
So transient an atmosphere, but nothing has changed.
I could be anywhere, anytime in this world.

Still a warm home to those coming from emotionless homes, colder than the most frigid temperatures.
Embracing the unaccepted and the judged, those who are central contributors to the richness of life.

Here, it doesn’t matter what anyone does to pay the bills, or whether they pay their bills at all.
Retail associates, bartenders, a wrestler, artistes (well, aren’t we all really?)
Doesn’t matter if someone has a “living.”
“Making a living” – a somewhat offensive phrase.
We all are living. We all are making a living – living life.

The coffeehouse was made for stories.
Okay, so some may exaggerate the truth for a good story
But what a story it was!
They lie not to hurt, but to impress.
I envy their ability to be good storytellers – it takes a confidence I seem to lack in social situations.

The awkward silences do not matter.
Everyone knows they happen.
As a matter of fact, breaks in talking can be absolutely appropriate.
Like the punctuation between two topics.
A breath, like a period.
A few breaths, like an ellipsis.

As I converse with people I don’t know, some look right past me and some look at me, a usual occurrence.
But in this case, there happens to be a mirror behind me that is quite enticing for those who like to look at themselves.

I run into a friend from college who I haven’t seen for over a decade, at least.
Me trying to figure out how long it has been seems to make him uncomfortable, so I stop.
He is so intelligent, yet troubled – I sense his worry across the room.
He helps the bartender.

It’s funny how the coffeehouse calls us back.
Here, the six degrees of separation becomes the first degree of separation, which I guess is really no separation at all.

Just like the sesame seeds and the espresso balls, the coffee pots and the three-slot toasters.
All so different, yet coming perfectly together in this one place.
But it all makes sense and life is so simple with the coffeehouse as my universe.

The friendly gray and orange fish in the aquarium wave to visitors
The music and the sound of the blender is life’s soundtrack.
The wooden cabinets – making me feel like I’m cuddled up in a cabin.
The hanging plants wish us health and wellbeing
And the piano longs to be played…a reminder of the pianist I once was, could still be…

The smells of hot cider and celebration
Of basil that brings back thoughts of grilled cheese sandwiches at outdoor festivals.
Come to think of it, being here actually feels like camping.
It brings me back to just being, relaxing.
Catering to only the most basic necessities.
Am I thirsty? Am I hungry? Where’s the bathroom?

Conversations revolve around old episodes of Star Trek and Dr. Who (Dr. Who? – exactly…)
Reassuring me that watching television is okay, no matter how old the series.
Pop culture is essentially a seed for discussion,
I knew there was a reason that I watch so much garbage on TV.

The bartender has not changed, and I hope he will not change in my lifetime.
He brings the sweets, the comfort, the alcohol, the warm milk and honey.
He does not age.
Is this coffeehouse actually the fountain of youth?
One generation returns in union with the next and the next and the next….

There’s the kid with the crazy curly hair planning a camping weekend of music. Here comes the loud guy again.
There’s the creative girl wearing the clothes I wish I had.
Here’s the guy focused completely on his laptop.

They are all here and they were all here then, well minus the laptop.
I can sense that there are people here who feel obligated to be the hosts. Apparently, I am one of them as I sit cross-legged and barefoot on the couch.

Please don’t forget about those who have come and gone since the beginning of time.
I mean, how could this place NOT have been here since the beginning of time?

You can feel the memories, the conversations.
Look here, the metal gold circle on the ceiling used to hold something but now, no longer.
Signifying what used to be.
You can practically hear the footsteps of those who were once here.

They too believed this coffeehouse was their home, and it was
And it is to those today.
For it is infinite, timeless.
The universal truth of all humans.
But relevant in the present, ever present.
And I come to realize that maybe the coffeehouse is what I aspire to be.

My eyes keep being drawn to the sticker that says, “Uptown Tattoo – Where Everyday is Halloween” (a favorite holiday of mine).

If you find yourself looking at this sticker,
Know that I have been where you now are.
And carry that moment in your heart forever, as I will.
And while you’re at it, try the Toasted Almond. Cheers!