Goddess, I hope so.
Jake’s coffeehouse is an absolute gem, and I’d hate to see it go under from a lack of clientele.
Not only that, I’d been banking on getting walk-ins from some of his clients. Guess I’ll have to do some actual advertising rather than word of mouth like I’d hoped.
“Online orders have been steady,” Truvy shares, reaching for her latte. “I’m not sure why the locals—”
As though our conversation summoned them, two women enter the coffeehouse, talking amongst themselves as they head to the counter, pulling off scarves and jackets.
Truvy excuses herself and greets them warmly, asking about their kids and settling into comfortable conversation as she takes their orders.
I’m honestly glad to see more people here.
As the women take a seat near the front plate-glass window, I can’t help but watch them. Due to the lack of other patrons, I also can’t help overhearing their conversation once the bustle from the coffee machines dies down.
The redhead is struggling with her in-laws, who seem to have strong ideas about how she’s raising her baby.
I don’t see anything wrong with not letting a toddler use screens or toys that light up and make sounds at the mere push of a button, but what do I know? I played in the dirt when I was a toddler.
I still do, now that I think of it.
The blonde offers encouragement and launches into a story about her own woes and worries. A kid who is learning to drive, a partner who isn’t present, the desire to change herappearance.
I know they’re bonding, but it breaks my heart that there’s such frustration in their voices. Such yearning for stability right along with deep disappointment for the unmet desires around being seen, and feeling valued and appreciated.
Mom life sure seems rough.
Thoughts of my own mother flit in while I eat my pastries, surreptitiously observing the two friends.
She was an incredible woman. Fierce, yet loving. She and my cousins were all I had after my dad died in that freak climbing accident when I was little. I never asked my mother what it was like to outlive her spouse, but I always got the sense that he was her entire world. Well, him and me.
Even after he passed, she never remarried. I don’t think she even dated anyone, although that could have had more to do with her role of leadership than anything else. She was the Eldress of our circle. A role my cousin, Gayle, holds now that my mother has passed beyond the Veil.
Though the pain of her passing has lessened with time, my mother’s absence in my life still aches. I miss her dearly right now, and can’t help wondering what she would think of where I ended up.
I think she’d be pleased.
Just like those two moms at the bistro table across the room, worrying over their children, my mother had my best interests at heart too. Always.
It’s why she didn’t force me to do The Proving when I came of age. Why she encouraged me to follow my own innerguidance and forge my own path. Why she silenced any would-be critics and wholeheartedly supported my choices around not stepping fully into the circle. She always told me to trust my heart and use my Power for good in the world.
I can do that here.
I want to do that here.
Listening to snippets of these women’s lives, recognizing the resignation to what they see as monotonous responsibilities and the seemingly insurmountable dichotomies of being a woman and a partner, and a parent, I want to bring joy into their worlds. Color. Beauty.
Life.
I know just how to do it, too.
On that note, I clear my table and head to the counter, where Truvy is reading a book on soil-structure interaction.
“I wasn’t sure where to put my dishes,” I say quietly, setting them on the counter.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that. We bus the tables here.”
I nod, smiling. Maybe they bus the tables when business is slow, but I foresee it picking up in the near future.
