The things that truly matter are discussed in the coffee shop. Facebook is a bunch of bull, the best pictures, the happiest moments, the edited photos. Anyone can be anyone with a delete, an edit, a crop, and a like.
Clutching my espresso in my hand like gold, the liquid that supercharges the morning and helps me feverishly write the words that grace this page. A man sits off in the corner, strategically sitting next to the door that opens and closes with gusts of tundric *air. A regular who makes friends with strangers. This man is always alone and the first to strike up a conversation. A caffeine infused plea for human interaction. I make sure to always greet this man. I know it makes a difference, a subtle glimmer of hope in conversation and connection.
The three men to my right discuss recent skiing trips with their sons. They are proud of the colleges they got into. They talk about their sons strides in life; marriages, health concerns, and talk about what’s next for their near retirement Suburban Eagan Life.
Two girls ahead of me, single would be my guess, perhaps sophomores or juniors in college discuss love, looks, and yoga pants. They discuss their friends who are getting married and how they have a relationship that has survived the worst of troubles. They jump around the conversation to yoga pants and how they fit. They discuss how now, their jeans, resemble the skin tight yoga pants that hand in their closet. They discuss the emphasis on looks and fitness, embarrassed, they admit to one another the silliness of it all. The young women sit in flannels, skinny jeans, and Uggs. They clutch their coffee as each words makes them feel more connected.
A group of runners sit by the restrooms, red rosed cheeks from their run. The upcoming races, Asics footwear, and mileage are topics of discussion. They seem serious about their sport, but they break out to discuss a beer run and old stories of gripping through a half marathon hung over.
A bit of cliché mixed with the true underlying human condition.
The value on looks
Serious, but not serious runners
Lonely seeking attention or anything to add to the dullness of the day
…and then here I sit, frivolously writing with an old school pen and paper. A dying breed, there is no computer in sight. I wish we could step away from the shield of the internet. The very thing that blocks real, authentic communication.
*Tundric: a newly created word: adjective: describing ultra- cold, bone chilling weather.