Love and Coffee
Recently, I was sitting in a McDonald’s with my daughter for a quick breakfast meal. I know, not a great nutritional choice. Anyway, I was sipping on a hot cup of coffee and my daughter was eating a sausage biscuit. I looked around for a discarded Washington Post, but all the newspaper leftovers were already taken. So, I started listening to the conversations of the patrons. I tuned in on sports talk among a group of elderly men. Caught snatches of jokes exchanged among some young teenage boys. Then my ears heard a conversation between two elderly women.
One woman was describing the work of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, a topic she took keen interest in. This led the other woman to begin reminiscing about her hometown. She began to talk about the house she grew up in, and the land her family owned which she described as equal to four city blocks. Seems people from other areas would drive out to the country and dump their unwanted pets. Her mother, sympathetic to the plight of the various cats and dogs that wandered up to their barn, would feed them, ultimately taking the animals in as family pets. Consequently, this woman recalled found memories of various cats and dogs, abandoned by their initial owners, but warmly adopted into her family.
My daughter finished her food and I finished my coffee. It wasn’t my conversation – but I enjoyed the story about the pets and the barn and the childhood home of the woman telling the story. Leaving the McDonald’s – I felt like a member of a small country neighborhood – although I was smack in the middle of suburbia in the early morning rush hour.
My daughter wants a pet. Her father has offered to buy her a dog. He always had a dog as a child. I have repeatedly refused to consider it. But something about listening to that story in the McDonald’s made me think about it.
I love stories. They are like gifts that are sitting around waiting for us to pick them up and enjoy. For me, these gifts are better than store-bought, hard or softcover stories – they have voice – they live – natural and unique – personal. But they require that we pay attention – something we often fail to do.
I write B-Notes when I’m paying attention. This is a space for my stories.