My Coffee Shop

This summer I'm taking some time to do something I love...writing. Below is a rough draft of a few of my thoughts. I just couldn't wait for them to be perfect, so decided to share them a little early!


There is something magical about my hometown coffee shop. As I sit nestled at my usual table, with my laptop and favorite drink, an iced caramel marvel, within reach I begin to consider the possible source of this inimitable feeling. Maybe it’s the aroma that greets me when I walk in the door. Maybe it’s the classic jazz music that floats through the air. Maybe it’s because the barista knows my name. Maybe it’s the oversized green chair with yesterday’s newspaper draped over its arm. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight pours through the windows and drips onto my table. Or maybe it’s because a coffee shop is the most suitable spot for almost any occasion.
I have several significant memories in this quiet shop. Each table is home to a special conversation or turning point in my life. For example, the first time I entered the doors of this coffee shop was when it opened during my freshman year of high school. My best friend and I bopped through the doors, and we instantly felt like sophisticated women instead of silly teenage girls. Of course, this new aura of maturity was probably not evident to the other customers in the shop, but for a moment, it was our reality. I ordered a tall mocha with extra whipped cream. Although I would have never admitted it, I thought it tasted terrible and wished I had ordered a hot chocolate. But I knew that worldly women who frequently grace coffee shops would never order such a childish drink, so I forced myself to sip the bitter beverage. Angela and I sat in the cozy green armchairs, and talked for over an hour about the cute boys we had seen on the drive over, how annoying our parents had suddenly become, and how we wanted to cut our hair for the summer. Although we probably looked out of place among the businessmen discussing next month’s quota and the young couples holding hands from across the table, for that hour, I felt grown up.
During the next few years, I would frequently meet friends for late night talks over a cup of coffee. Although I cannot record every conversation word perfect, I know that it was during those evenings that I learned more about myself. With each discussion I envisioned the type of friend that I wanted to be, the type of man that I wanted to marry, and the type of career that I wanted to have. Of course, these ideas have both grown and shattered. However, I truly believe that it was those heartfelt discussions about love, faith and the future that have made me the young woman I am today.
On the night before I left for my freshman year of college, I felt both excited and timid. Despite the fact that I still had most of my packing to do before leaving early the next morning, my young, beautiful, youth leader took me out for our “last” coffee together. We sat at a small table near the window, as I poured out my fears for the upcoming year. She gave me wise advice and assured me that I would have a wonderful year. She was right. My freshman year was filled with both challenges and blessings. As a result of late night cram sessions, uncontrollable laughter, aching tears, and countless cups of coffee, my heart became knit together with several life-long friends. Upon returning from college, my youth leader and I recalled the conversation we had had at the corner table many months before. It seemed impossible that almost a year had passed, and even more impossible that I had changed so significantly during that time.
Another important conversation took place in the back nook of the shop, at the table near the fireplace. My boyfriend and I sat across from one another, gripping our drinks and gritting our teeth. It’s always difficult to begin a serious conversation, and we tortured ourselves with small talk, until we finally and awkwardly broke into the real issue at hand. Although the coffee shop was deserted, we spoke in hushed tones, determined to get to the bottom of our age-old communication problem. This was our first real fight and at the time it seemed like an impossible obstacle. To my surprise, we had a mature and profitable discussion. He patiently listened to my frustrations and I gently acknowledged my part in the conflict. Our conversation ended when one of the baristas cautiously approached our table and told us that the shop would be closing in ten minutes. He held my hand and we walked outside to his snow-covered car, leaving our troubles at the lonely table. Although our dating relationship only lasted a few more months, we happily remained close friends. Once again, this conversation shaped my mental picture of the type of person that I ultimately want to marry. I envision someone who isn’t afraid to sit in a deserted coffee shop and honestly confront a problem as it lays strewn across the table.
So you see, coffee shops really are a place for every occasion. They are the perfect home for first dates and last drinks. They contain armchairs for both serious conversations and carefree reminiscing. They are the perfect spot for writing a paper or reading a favorite book. They provide inspiration and a sense of familiarity to those who enter their warm atmosphere. Undoubtedly, they are one of my favorite retreats from the world and also one of my favorite places in which to face the world head on.