Coffee Log, Day 170


Coffee: Fair Trade Five County Espresso Blend, Trader Joe’s Brand

Her mom caught her talking Hebrew and asked where she’d learned it – “I don’t know!” Her mom didn’t either. So the woman spent most of her childhood looking for her Jewish roots but never found them. Now she has ‘peace’ in Hebrew tattooed on her wrist.

The drive through – a bank deposit, mom and daughter. The daughter’s putting in dollars and checks. Her mom tries to give her a few to make the total round even. The kid refuses. Mom laughs about it with me, a little amused, a little apologetic because I had to count it. I say: “I get it, that pride, huh?” The kid beamed like cream soda popped by the gym lockers because you have to hide your sodas at school.

The lady at the taco joint has different colored hair every time I see her. Today, it was aquamarine. Sometimes I see her walking the sidewalk, crossing Cary traffic, backpack on, punk sneakers, earbuds. When you order, she talks bright and smiles with the middle of her mouth. Today, she told me about a survey. Tomorrow, she’ll try to sell me drinks. Like all good salespeople, she’s a classy actress.

A guy tries to get to know me but gets my name wrong. I tell him right, tell him it happens all the time, but now there’s a bunch of stuff crowding the six feet between us, pink insulation. We work a little more and he tries again: “Are you new here?” I say no because I’m not new. I wish he’d talked about the weather. It was a hot day, sunny, spoiled sour cream. We could have compared projections for weekend rain. Instead, the guy tried to get to know me, but I’m a salesman, I’m a writer, I’m a passing cloud; I get paid to put the heavy things away in cupboards. Suits me fine.

Currently Reading: LaRose, Louise Erdrich

Support Relief for Family Suffering at the BorderRAICES DONATION CAMPAIGN

“I’m a hustler, baby; I sell water to a well!” – Jay Z


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