A wintery chill had just taken the usually ungodly hot town captive and sweaters gleefully made their first-born appearance alongside scarfs and the rare, overzealous hat. I, for one, could not have been happier at this. A child of the north, this warmer climate was nice enough but its relentless determination not to ever change got to me sometimes. I ventured out. Mindless errands first. To the bank. To the post. What followed I was open to and the answer came back to me in the traditional way, by way of a passing thought. To the cafe.
The cafe I chose was one from my old neighborhood. I still drove the few extra miles out of the way to frequent the bank there, among other things and the cafe was one of those other things. This cafe was special. Magical. In the back was a room- no, a portal. It sounds queer, but it's true. A portal to another time and place. And it was magical. And the coffee was okay, too.
I always got a little flutter of excitement as I walked down the sidewalk towards the cafe. This is it, I'd think, just a few more steps. And then... I'd arrive. The front door makes a tiny ting, ting when you open it and immediately all heads in the front of the cafe turn towards you as if to say, "Who's this!!" A phrase that would be woefully intimidating in any other place, but at this one is only filled with excitement and pleasure. As if all new things were grand.
I walked up to the bar. No line. That's nice. Sometimes there's an ungodly line. Today, no line. The barista was busy with her friends. Two girls, tattood, with attitude and style. I was not intimidated. All new things were grand. She finally turned to me, "What can I get for you?" I studied the menu on the wall above. My hands reading brail on the countertop, but the brail was invisible even to touch. My eyes were running sprints between her eyes and the words scrawled above. Prices. Flavours. "Do you do, like, an iced mocha?" I asked. "Sure. We can do that. Do you want a single or double shot?" "S-s-s-s double," I finally decided. She smiled at me. It might just have been me, but I think she was enamored.
Her friend turned to me, "I like your sweater." "Thanks." "I do, too," added the barista. "I like your whole outfit," added the other friend. "Thanks," I blushed. "It goes together really well," one of them said. "The best thing ever," said the barista referring to my drink as she handed me my iced mocha. I became excited for my drink. I looked where to sit. All the front cafe seating was filled. My body and mind still buzzed from the attention of the cool, new girls. The cool girls. I walked back, wondering where to sit.
This way, called the portal room. This way. I walked this way. All new things were grand. I walked in. A new section of the portal had been created. Almost stagecoach-like. The previous passenger left and I crawled in. Then I was gone. The trotting horse galloped ahead as I trollied behind. The flickering lights provided warmth both in temperature and ambiance. People had scribbled in the walls of the stagecoach. Things like "Set your spirit free" and "Alexz" and "Trees keep living despite their broken branches" and the music I heard was distant and full of strings. And I loved it all. All new things were grand and lead to a greater things.
The cafe I chose was one from my old neighborhood. I still drove the few extra miles out of the way to frequent the bank there, among other things and the cafe was one of those other things. This cafe was special. Magical. In the back was a room- no, a portal. It sounds queer, but it's true. A portal to another time and place. And it was magical. And the coffee was okay, too.
I always got a little flutter of excitement as I walked down the sidewalk towards the cafe. This is it, I'd think, just a few more steps. And then... I'd arrive. The front door makes a tiny ting, ting when you open it and immediately all heads in the front of the cafe turn towards you as if to say, "Who's this!!" A phrase that would be woefully intimidating in any other place, but at this one is only filled with excitement and pleasure. As if all new things were grand.
I walked up to the bar. No line. That's nice. Sometimes there's an ungodly line. Today, no line. The barista was busy with her friends. Two girls, tattood, with attitude and style. I was not intimidated. All new things were grand. She finally turned to me, "What can I get for you?" I studied the menu on the wall above. My hands reading brail on the countertop, but the brail was invisible even to touch. My eyes were running sprints between her eyes and the words scrawled above. Prices. Flavours. "Do you do, like, an iced mocha?" I asked. "Sure. We can do that. Do you want a single or double shot?" "S-s-s-s double," I finally decided. She smiled at me. It might just have been me, but I think she was enamored.
Her friend turned to me, "I like your sweater." "Thanks." "I do, too," added the barista. "I like your whole outfit," added the other friend. "Thanks," I blushed. "It goes together really well," one of them said. "The best thing ever," said the barista referring to my drink as she handed me my iced mocha. I became excited for my drink. I looked where to sit. All the front cafe seating was filled. My body and mind still buzzed from the attention of the cool, new girls. The cool girls. I walked back, wondering where to sit.
This way, called the portal room. This way. I walked this way. All new things were grand. I walked in. A new section of the portal had been created. Almost stagecoach-like. The previous passenger left and I crawled in. Then I was gone. The trotting horse galloped ahead as I trollied behind. The flickering lights provided warmth both in temperature and ambiance. People had scribbled in the walls of the stagecoach. Things like "Set your spirit free" and "Alexz" and "Trees keep living despite their broken branches" and the music I heard was distant and full of strings. And I loved it all. All new things were grand and lead to a greater things.
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