I work at a coffee shop. Again. I’ve been a barista on and off since I was 15. I love the intellectuals reading intently and taking notes, the philosophers one-upping each other’s volume as they try to make their point, the second-date high schoolers holding mochas with both hands and peering at each other through shy eyelashes. I wonder about where people have come from and where they’re going. A few years ago I wrote an article exploring this feeling. It was published in the glorious Mountain Gazette. See here:
A few nights ago, as I was scrubbing the espresso machine, a slight woman came in and posted a flyer she’d brought. When she left I went to read it, drying my hands as I stood in front of the board.
I saw guitar lessons, meditation groups, dog walking services, dance shows, conferences, and discussion groups. I had no idea which flyer was hers. But there was a clear moment that I realized more was happening in this town than I could ever see or do.
For the month of April I am going to attend, contact, or investigate two posted notices a week. I’m new to town and looking for adventure. Here I go.