Second cup of coffee hour arrives. Taking the bait on my Starbucks app, I place an order for a BOGO offer: one iced flat white for my friend, and a cinnamon caramel cream cold brew, light on the caramel, for me.
I place my order.
This location is not accepting orders.
I was almost that person who would’ve tried to go inside.
Okay, fine. I’ll choose another location.
I arrive and for some odd reason, one side of the driveway is blocked. I head toward the drive through only there aren’t many cars in line. Correction: There aren’t any cars in line. There’s a sign on a cute blackboard, written in chalk markers, telling me the location is being remodeled and will re-open March 10th.
I pull into a parking spot to check my order. Where did it go? Did it even go through? Wi-fi is spotty at work. I completely ignored the construction around me. Around here, it’s normal.
Off to a third location. I did not plan on this taking so long. I’m hoping it’s there. The barista brings my order and all is well. Not to self: don’t order anything while distracted.
While waiting for our staff meeting to start this afternoon, I decide I’m not in the mood for cooking dinner after my kiddo pings me to ask what we’re having.
Summer Moon
my favorite coffee shop
oldies on
loud
espresso machine hisses
and steams everyone's orders
stair-stepped mini-bleachers
hold a single to-go
order because
Sundays are for sitting
and sipping a steaming
mid-day cup
on a cold, sunny
spring day
waiting for warm weather
to pounce
and stay
soon warm drinks
will be ordered
over ice
cups dripping with
condensation
it's noisy
people catching up
winding down
sipping away the weekend,
a week-long break,
a few more hours until tomorrow
where we all wake up
and do it all over again,
with a quick
home-brewed coffee
to chase the sleep away
In December, my mom stayed with me for two weeks to help me as I recovered from surgery. When I say help, it means she made sure I didn’t get up and break doctor’s orders, cooked all of the things with my husband, and cleaned everything that maybe didn’t need cleaning. Every morning, after mini-me got to school, we sat at the kitchen table and had coffee.
Morning coffee chats across the table typically revolved around whether or not we needed extra coffee, updates with my sisters, a good morning from my 20 year old as he headed off to work, toast or breakfast tacos, a chat with my dad who was home alone. In two short weeks, I grew accustomed to cafecito with Mom. We had one more chat before my husband dropped her off at the airport to return home.
Winter break gave me about three extra weeks of down time. When she returned home, we continued our morning cafecito dates via Face Time. I’d hear my phone ping: “Cafecito?”
“Hold on! I just got up. Give me 10 minutes.”
The coffee gets started, I pull my hair into its morning ponytail and retrieve my laptop. The screen is bigger. Coffee steaming, I bring it to the table and start the call. We chat. Dad pops in to say hi before he goes out for his morning run. Mom shakes her head because we know it’s too cold for him to go out, but it’s pointless. Bundled up, he goes anyway.
We continued these cafecito dates every morning until I returned to work in January. I don’t know why we didn’t do this before; Face Time is something we were already using. Getting accustomed to that morning rhythm helped us establish a new way to check in. Now it’s on weekends, sometimes Saturday and Sunday, sometimes on one of the two days.
We chatted again this morning, discussing a pan dulce* flavored coffee I sent her last week. “It would be so much better with a concha, but I’m going gluten-free for Lent.”
“Oh just eat whatever you want and don’t worry about it,” she reassures.
It’s a seasonal flavor, but I’ll stock up on what I can find in the clearance section. No big plans for the weekend, but at least the wind has calmed down where she lives. The Texas panhandle is notorious for windstorms that will kick up the dust nonstop for several consecutive days.
“You remember my friend…?”
“I saw the obituary for…I thought she looked familiar.”
“Hold on, your dad wants to say hi.”
“I don’t know why she doesn’t want me to…” Dad starts.
And so it goes.
Saying goodbye a few times, our conversation doesn’t seem to end. Either one of us will interject something on our way out of the call and we wind up talking for another fifteen minute chunk.
My second cup of coffee is nearly empty, so I know it’s time to get on with life on my side of the screen and let her get on with hers. She has my niece’s birthday party to attend.
“Have a slice of cake for me!”
“Sure will.”
The call ends and I close my computer. I’m looking forward to spring break so we can meet for cafecito every morning.
*Pan dulce is Mexican sweet bread, or pastries, many of us enjoy dunking into our cafecito (coffee).
Nerds Beget Nerds 