coffee in the afternoon is watching love.

I love sitting in coffee shops in the afternoon. Some days I feel like I'm in a movie. Eric Whitacre graces my ears and the world seems to slow down. I imagine what a couple at the high table along the wall is discussing. The lady next to me, I imagine she's trying to write an email to her granddaughter in Westminster, Maryland. A little boy with shiny brown hair and his cheeks full of air leans against the pastry glass. Grandpa can't say no. He takes his new treasure to a table and opens it like a new package on Christmas morning. His feet tawdle to and fro and his face is graced with powdered sugar like the cold sidewalks outside the window. People rush in and out. Sucked into laptops or staring into space. Every time the door opens it's an exciting new plot twist to the establishment's day. Who will grace us with their presence? Where did they come from and where are they going? To be a flower on the lapel of all who enter and exit would be quite extraordinary. The little one is thirsty. He climbs up on a large chair to reach the water cooler. So proud that he did it himself, he stops to take a drink out of his paper cup. He looks down unsure how he'll climb to the floor with his water cup. A gentleman watches with a grin. Reaching out to this adventurous young lad, he takes the cup. Unsure for a moment, the boy looks at his cup and back to the man. The child smiles and hands the man the cup. He jumps off the chair and takes the cup back to his grandpa. The love of a day with Grandpa. As the choir sings in my ears, he mouths "say thank you!." The boy turns back. "Thank you." And it's back to the donut. That's love. Donuts with Grandpa. A stranger to hold your cup while you jump off your chair. And a warm place with warm drinks on a cold day. Oh, to see the love that surrounds us and to join in with love. The beautiful chords, melodies and harmonies that seem to fill the room, but only in my mind. It's the sound of love. You can't see it, but it fills you. You can't describe it, but you witness it unfold and in some way it changes you. And maybe only for a moment, the world seems full of purpose and beauty as people, words, events, schedules, dreams, and beverages seem to dance and together weaving into a grand choral work. The darkness is painful but brings meaning, depth, and gratitude. The light is life and hope. And to stand back and watch it all mix together into something grandiose. This is a snapshot. How worlds combine at a single point in time, to make a chord that will be part of a greater theme of ups and downs. No matter the notes, no matter the direction, no matter anything, the song is held together by love.