Outside of illustrating I also enjoy writing. Many other people have enjoyed my writing as well. Now you can too. This series of articles is entitled ‘The Coffee People’. It’s where I go to my favorite coffee shop (Starry Nites here in Rochester, NY) and write about the people I see and the thoughts that crop up due to those observations. It’s like sketching but without actually drawing anything. That being said, I’m rather bad with grammar and could use a decent editor. Enjoy.
Summer in march.
The local coffee shop is a clutter of activity. The young old all sit scattered at black metal tables laughing and playing like children. Sipping exotic drinks that came to these shores so long ago we’ve all but forgotten their origins.
The sun is radiant and pure. A breeze, perfect for drying linen wafts lazily along giving the entire day a timeless feel. As if everyone sitting out here has touched immortality. They’ll always be like this. Sipping coffees and smoothies. Eating fine paninis and wraps, bagel chips and gazpacho. Laughing and conversing, drinking and stuffing on a sunny day in a fine cool breeze. The cares and worries of this American life fall to the way side and they can each forget and live in this picture perfect reality for just a moment.
I’ve always enjoyed days like this. Most of my fondest memories have this back drop. The coffee shop in whichever city, the people talking, all trying to be the best. All trying to prove that they’re not the emotional wrecks we all are. And I sit, a student of the human condition and I don’t feel quite so alone although I never really talk to anyone.
I sip my iced coffee and shield my eyes to the sunlight with expensive although scratched glasses and pleasantly smile. One can’t help but to smile in weather like this. Blue skies and fluffy cotton suspended above. Seventy something all around, just warm enough to allow the breeze to cool a beaded brow. No matter what they say or how they try to convince themselves this is perfect weather. And this little coffee shop, one of countless many is a brief glimpse at utopia. Everyone happy and fed, leisure abounds. Conversations about nothing and everything, soon to be forgotten or destined to be remembered and called upon.
It’s summer on the first day of spring and that means something. We’ve hurt our life support system and everything is in flux. The first day of spring and the trees that grow from the sidewalks are already budding. Yet we sit and smile for what else can we do? I too hope to laugh in the face of oblivion when the time comes or at least go out with a grin and a twinkle in my eye.
The coffee is gone and I’ve got places to be in this concrete jungle. To spring, to summer, to life and to each other.