Nov 6, 2014
There's A Storm Brewing
I am sitting in a coffee shop. Writing. By myself. Enjoying an occasional sip on my sweet mocha. The place buzzes with conversation. Men in business suits type furiously in the corner, two women embrace before settling into their table to catch up. A man whose long white beard is suspiciously familiar, bobs his head to music, his eyes and concentration focused on his laptop. Perhaps he is making a list. Even checking it twice.
The hum of the espresso machines and the hiss of froth coming from behind the counter provide the percussion to the orchestra of noises in this busy place. But it is not distracting. As I settle in to this Me Time, it feels invigorating to be here, alone, yet full of people.
The energy radiating here takes me by surprise. Crowds and too many people usually give me pause, increasing my anxiety, and deep deep desire to be home curled up on my couch. It is enough for me to wonder if I am maybe not getting out of the house enough.
I am currently on a quest, propelled by this unsettled and cloudy feeling I've had lately. I detect the distant roll of thunder, perhaps a glimmer of lightening too, but I can't quite make out where the storm is coming from... or if it is a storm to be feared or eagerly anticipated.
As a girl I loved thunderstorms. I remember laying on our living room floor, staring upside down out the window mesmerized by the bolts lighting up the sky. Somewhere between that adventurous child and this frazzled mom, thunderstorms became less of a wonder and more of a worry. They bring me more fear as an adult than I ever remember having as a kid.
And I wonder, where did that audacious girl go?
Is her loss a natural consequence of growing older? Or is my memory of her distorted by distance and melancholy?
Have I completely lost that wonder and excitement for adventure? Can it be rediscovered?
I don't know exactly where to start this expedition into who I am and what I want with this life, but there is an urgency settling in, tingling my toes as it makes its way up, encouraging me to move, explore, investigate.
Is it a mid-life crisis? The battle cry of the frazzled mother?
Perhaps it is the wisdom that comes with time. That surly there is so much to this life to be explored. So much to enjoy. So much to seek out and discover. So much that I can contribute.
So let it begin. Let me begin. Here. Right now. Alone in a coffee house.