Writing Prompt 5

Food: What’s for breakfast? Dinner? Lunch? Or maybe you could write a poem about that time you met a friend at a cafe.

Life is really getting in the way of my writing practice.

The last time I met a friend at a cafe. I can’t remember, but I can tell you about the time I dream about being at a cafe with an old friend.

A small bell jingled when I opened the door. I see him across the cafe sitting in a corner booth. He was studying the menu intently and looks up suddenly as if he senses my presence. He gives me a little wave and a small smile that shows off the deep dimple on his left cheek. I smile back and make my way over to the small booth in the corner. He hands me the menu and tells me that he was looking at the eggs benedict since that is normally how he judges new brunch places., but he’s not sure if he wants to have something too heavy as he has lunch plans. I glance over the menu and settle on just a coffee. He asks if I want to split an order of a cinnamon roll with him because the waitress said it was as big as his face. I laugh and agree in indulging a bit. The waitress comes around to take our order. He orders for the both of us – 2 coffees, and a cinnamon roll – making sure to emphasis our excitement for the cinnamon roll. I smile along with him as we hand her our menus. “I’ll be right back with your coffees!” she brightly says, before she bounces off to the kitchen to place our orders.

Our knees are barely grazing one another under the booth and we’re left in silence as she leaves. We look into each others eyes with much to say and not sure where to start. I clasp my hands under the table and lean in, feeling regret in agreeing to this meal. “You look good,” he says gently, “How have you been?” The waitress thankfully interrupts as she fills our mugs to the top. She gives us a doleful smile as she notifies us know that the kitchen is a bit backed up and the order may take a little longer than normal to come out. He gives her an understanding nod and passes me the creamer while she walks away to give the bad news to a few more tables nearby. I take a few scalding hot sips from my black coffee to make room for some creamer. “I’ve been fine.” I finally respond. “Things are fine. How are you?” And all of a sudden, the once familiar feeling of sitting with a friend turns into the unfamiliar sense that I was now sitting with a stranger. “I’m okay.” he responds.

We both look down into our coffees, sitting with this new realization that we are strangers. We’re not really friends, we’re not acquaintances. We don’t know anything about one another anymore. What we once knew about one another is of the past. The way we were able to gaze into each other’s eyes in silence and know where the other was in their head. Knowing the reason behind the “good” or “fine” for the day whether it be a simple foot dip in a puddle or being overstimulated and not being able to properly cope. We finally met our gazes and we swim in each other’s brains. I see the sadness, the regret, the utter helplessness behind his hazel eyes. I wonder what he sees behind mine. We’ve known each other long enough that we know there is more to the “good” and “fine”, but we are not in a place that we can explore them. We’re not together anymore. We have no reason our lives should be further intersected – no reason to be tied together.

Surprisingly, I don’t feel pain. I thought this meal would break me all over again. But it’s not. I feel.. okay. I feel comfortable in letting go of this string that held us together. I’m ready to let go. And I feel the same from him. As we sit and sip our coffees in silence together in this small cafe, we feel at peace. His eyes that held the sadness, the regret, the helplessness shifts to acceptance, peace, and gentleness. I wonder what he sees behind mine. We sit for a bit longer, exploring the depths of our souls through our eyes while the hot coffee warmed our bodies. He finally gives me a gentle smile and thanks me for being in this chapter of his life. He leans over and gives me a lingering kiss on my forehead. “I’ll see you around.” he says as he pulls out a $20 from his wallet and slips it under his mug. I return his smile softly, knowing that we probably will never see each other again. I watch him walk out of the cafe with a quiet jingle. I see him stand outside of the front door and take a deep breath in with an even longer exhale before disappearing out of view down the street.

The waitress is still by the kitchen, staring anxiously at the poor chef who was working on multiple different orders at once. The final sip of coffee from my mug was still warm as it coated my throat. I pulled a $20 from my wallet and tucked it under my mug. Taking out a sticky note and pen, I wrote Thank you 🙂 on the table next to the mugs. I take one last look around the place that gifted me with peace and got up to close the door on this chapter of my life with a jingle.

Writing Prompts Day 1

Outside the Window: What’s the weather outside your window doing right now? If that’s not inspiring, what’s the weather like somewhere you wish you could be?

Mainly because I need to write. Whether it’s nonsensical words strung together or just putting my thoughts into words, I need to put out some of the things in my head. Prompts will be taken from here.

The weather outside is pitch black. Alexa says the temperature is 33 degrees Farenheit and we can expect more of the same throughout the night. It’s cold. The ground is damp from the snow earlier this week. There are still some stray patches of snow that have clung onto the grass through the cold, but most of it has melted into the ground leaving behind a soggy dampness in the soil.

I would prefer my outdoor view to be of a snow fall. Perhaps a snow storm. The view of the white flakes falling from the sky have always calmed me. It’s a beautiful, almost magical sense of feeling it brings – reminiscent of Christmas. I’m not sure which I like more: the feeling of coziness it instills in me as I see the swirling white flakes outside in the wind while I myself am wrapped in a blanket and fuzzy socks with a warm cup of coffee or the nostalgia it brings from the wild and lazy snow days that hold many core memories from college. That blanket of white that coats the outside brings a sense that a slate is being wiped clean. Of course the fallout from the snow is never fun to deal with. The slush, the ice, the absolutely cold to the bones feeling as you trek through whatever remains is never a fun thing to handle, but in that moment.. in that moment you’re looking out of your window watching the snowflakes fall to the ground, all thoughts of the aftermath are suspended. Only the pure white is seen. Only the magic is felt.

I hear it’s going to be a cold winter here in the DMV area this year. And I am looking forward to it a bit more than I’d like to confess to.