Coffee Date | Winter 2017
If you and I had coffee...
We'd meet at the little coffee kiosk at the local chain bookstore, where we've both been spending a lot of time lately. I'd order the biggest hot chocolate - hold the whipped cream - and with our drinks, we'd wander aimlessly through aisles and aisles of bound tales from storytellers, both new and centuries old. I'd tell you about my passion for the construction of books. The binding, the endpapers, the products used in the cover design, and the beautiful spines that hold them all together. Oh, and the smell. Don't get me started on the smell of printed books! The older ones are always the best.
If you and I had coffee...
I'd tell you how I've been struggling with anxiety lately and how soothing it is for me to walk into a library these days. How just meandering through the rows of literary contributions, running my fingers along the Dewey Decimal labels can slow my racing heart without a moment's pause. Hearing the crinkle of the plastic dust jacket when I open an edition and touching the yellowed and wrinkled pages is like a natural form of Prozac for me. I feel like I can breathe in those places. Like the silent stacks of books know what's on my aching mind without my needing to utter a single word.
If you and I had coffee...
I'd ask you about how you are approaching the coming new year. Whether you are pushing your sleeves up and putting some elbow grease into your plans for 2017 or if you are holding on to 2016 with some hesitancy to jump into something new with both feet. I'd share that I've been thinking a lot about the new year. I've been thinking about some changes that need to be made and how I feel about letting go of a few things that are no longer in line with where my life is headed. "I am learning to love the sound of my feet walking away from things not meant for me." I saw that quote recently and got a flutter in my stomach when I read it. I'm approaching the new year, Marie Kondo style. I don't want to spend my free time and energy doing anything that doesn't spark joy in my life - and I am evaluating my commitments accordingly.
If you and I had coffee...
I'd ask you if you've ever had a broken heart. I'd tell you that I've had a few dealt to me over the course of my adult life. I'd share with you that I wasn't sure they ever healed up completely but rather the pieces have been scattered, collected, and rearranged by loves to come after. You can tell a lot about the character of a person, a potential partner, by how they treat you in the aftermath of a broken heart. Some come in a whirlwind, kicking the pieces with the toes of their boots, crushing bits under their heels. Others, the rare few, see the remains all over the floor and immediately reach for the dustpan, then spend hours piecing you back together with superglue. I was lucky to find the latter.
If you and I had coffee...
I'd tell you how I've been craving some more culture in my life. How I am surrounding myself with art and poetry and music and literature from authors and creators who have lives that are very different than the one I lead. I'd tell you one of my BIG reading projects in 2017 is to read more diversely - to enjoy the literary offerings from people who aren't white, privileged, upper-or-middle class, Christian Americans... because I believe the best way to grow as a human being and achieve empathy and understanding is to meet other humans and learn about their experiences. I am very excited about this opportunity to learn more and broaden my spectrum.
If you and I had coffee...
We'd finish our drinks and make our way to the register to pay for the few books that might have jumped into our hands during our chat. Just before I hug you goodbye, I'd pull out a little gift for you from my kitchen - a parchment bag filled with homemade salted caramels. Some are dipped in gourmet French chocolate - one of my specialties from days gone by when I made a business of making candy. Oh, how I do miss the smiles I'd get when someone tried one of my treats for the first time... I'd give you a squeeze and wish you a happy holiday and we'd promise to meet up again in the new year. Twenty-seventeen, here we come!
