When Feeling Lost, Look Around and Pay Attention

Notes from a partly sunny day in a local coffee shop with a barista who whirls batons.

I am at a local coffee shop sitting in the corner spot next to the window as the sun seeps in through big fluffy clouds. I wonder why they call these days partly cloudy and not partly sunny? I was listening to the late Irish poet, John O’Donahue on the On Being podcast but I don’t love being on my air pods in public. Call it FOMO or something and I feel like it is oddly rude. What if someone says hi and I miss it?

Now I am listening to the barista share about her moped she rode to work today whisking through traffic and her goal to own a motorcycle next year. She is young with tattoos and a low ponytail braid running down her back. Tomorrow she has a baton performance at her high school. Her voice carries and working here and hearing my own thoughts is near impossible. And so my work is now listening to her welcome return guests and offer an older woman a taste of cold brew as she has never tried it even though she wants an iced green tea.

She just asked what day it is to the entire café and I so relate.

The postman just delivered the mail. He is wearing a lite blue US Postal t-shirt. I thought to myself how nice it must be to wear a breathable cotton t-shirt as all the mail people I knew when I was younger had formal button-ups with collars and long polyester pants in the middle of the Houston, Texas heat.

Now the barista is showing someone a baton throwing video on her phone. I like her.

A loud motorcycle posse just rolled by and I wonder if she wishes she was with them rolling through Main Street in a small town on a partly cloudy, partly sunny day rather than reading the entire drink menu to a woman who wanted chai but they are out.

I sometimes dream of working at a coffee shop. And secretly, I really dream of owning one.

Our coffee shop, and I say our because my husband is a morning person and I am not so he would have to open it so I could stroll in a bit later, would be super simple. I am talking four drink options only. You can get a pour over, an espresso, a cortado or Americano. On the weekends, I will blend you a ghee and coconut oil coffee should that be of interest. With enough interest, I would blend during the weekdays for you.

We would not have lattes. Or syrups. No wait, we would carry one syrup option - maple syrup from Morse Maple Farm in Vermont. We stayed there last summer in our RV in their parking lot and the owner let my kids walk with him and his two goats named Max and James while showing them where to pick blueberries in the morning for their cereal.

And yes, if you’re needing a snack, we have baked goods from a local baker. They would be baked that morning and when they are gone, they are gone. I imagine some days I, being the non-morning person, would miss the boat and the pastries would be gone and that is okay, I own my life choices. I also know my husband would sneak one under the shelf with a napkin on top and save me one - even though he wants me to know the consequences of not being a morning person, he loves me more than the lesson itself. That’s love, folks.

The baton throwing barista with the motorcycle goal is now on break. It is so quiet in here now.

A lady just passed by the window with air pods in and I wonder what she is listening to. Music, a book, a podcast, a ZOOM call without her video on? There is a Lost Cat poster taped to the light post for a grey cat with yellow eyes named FUZZ but I don’t think she saw it. Sorry Fuzz.

There goes another biker crew and they actually have matching leather jackets on! To my husband’s dismay, I love matching clothes. I bought him lite blue work out shorts the other day and then told him I got the matching color in biker shorts, too. I asked him to let me know which day he is going to wear them to which he rolls his eyes and half smirks knowing that I will go and change into the matching shorts the day he walks out in those baby blues.

Another dream I have is being in a bowling league. We would all have matching shirts with a pocket over the right breast and our names embroidered in teal thread. Maybe we would all get so close that we would have nicknames! Most likely the shirts would be polyester with a collar, not unlike that the postman used to wear in my youth. I also would have a leather bowling glove and a ball bag for my bowling ball because I am over the top like that and I don’t make myself wrong for it anymore.

What are your thoughts on street cleaners? This huge truck just rolled by with a broom brush cycling over the ground and I don’t get it. I also just felt a huge rush of fear that my car was parked in a spot it shouldn’t be. The amount of parking tickets I racked up living in Los Angeles and not reading the street cleaning sign that day while simultaneously basking in the glory of somehow finding a parking spot is truly a representation of my own undying optimism forever and ever, amen.

Across the street from where I am seated is a neon sign in a window that reads MASSAGE with another flickering neon sign that barely reads OPEN. On the blue shutter to the right is a forgotten candy cane decoration. Just one candy cane. I have a cookie jar of a Christmas Moose that my Grandmother gave me which we put dog treats in and for some reason, I keep it out year around, too.

I actually used to have a moped, a navy blue Vespa. Chris would actually ride on back and I drove because I was the only one that took the motorcycle test and in California, you have to have a motorcycle license. And if you don’t know, I love to follow rules. We drove it on the Pacific Coast Highway one morning and it was terrifying and hilarious. Seeing our reflection in other cars as we stopped at a stoplight with the ocean beside us still feels like a dream that we somehow made happen.

Which gives me hope for our co-owned coffee shop.

And the bowling league with matching shirts.

And my barista’s batons and motorcycle.

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You know I sat down today with two different notebooks open. I said to myself, let’s figure out your career and life today. I sipped a cortado in a tiny coffee cup and felt like I was too large of a figurine placed in a small dollhouse, which oddly is how I was starting to feel about my presence here in my new town. And then my pen broke. And so I found another pen but nothing came out. And I felt a bit lost. So I looked around.

And there I was.

Everywhere.