Coffee Log, Day 135


Coffee: Cafe Pajaro Extra Dark Roast, Trader Joe’s Brand

The rain took the heat away, then the rain went away too; packed-up houses. I took my daily walk in the space it left.

Tonight, I saw: a new family. The mother and father were both taller than me; their son was twig-high. He was toddling, dressed in a red tee. They held both his hands when he needed it. The three walked the parking lot searching for sticks and acorns. He picked one; he wasn’t satisfied.

“They’re better by the playground,” Dad says.

“Yeah,” says the toddler.

There’s a bend in the neighborhood that obscures oncoming traffic. The rain washed the tires of an SUV loud enough for me to dodge. My downstairs neighbor drove by. She waved. In her wake, I saw a mother and daughter slogging toward recycling. Mom was stern. She had handfuls of wood and cardboard. Her daughter was sterner. She pulled a pink wagon full of broken boxes.

Trees look best in a storm; your first love coming out the shower. I snapped a few pictures, even the sewers looked nice.

At the dog park, wet fluffs were yapping. They had death in their lungs but cuddles everywhere else. Their owners chatted across the fence. The dogs weren’t happy. Both were fat, still hungry.

The last stretch goes by the office, the pool, there’s a deck that’s always open and a guy in a dark armchair who’s always watching TV. We see each other often but look away when our eyes catch.

I took the new bridge across the stream. I saw the family again, only the Dad and son this time. I waved. Dad waved. The kid ran circles, he was scared of me; I’m no stick, no acorn. I said “Hi Hi!” to red shirt, folding my best paper-plane smile.

“Say hello,” said Dad.

“No!” said his son.

He ran away to find more fairies. I wasn’t hurt; summer storms are enticing company.

Currently Reading: LaRose, Louise Erdrich

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“I’m tryna get high as I can.” – Future, Hate the Real Me


Coffee Log, Day 53


Coffee: Cup of the Day from BREW, Cary; purchased with a tip from my Mom. I remember waking up on Saturdays and smelling coffee. The kitchen was next door to my bedroom. My mom always brewed Colombian. She took creamer and sweet-n-low. By the time she was done with it, the coffee was bunny-fur brown. She let me try it once. I spit it out. Coffee’s something you grow into, like all complicated vices. Thanks for the coffee, Mom.

I walked downtown this morning. It’s three miles one-way, about an hour. I took a new route and saw blooming trees. My goal was the farmer’s market and I made it. It was a small thing, just a few stalls, but friendly. I recognized a few faces from the old days working at the bookstore.

I start a new job Monday. It’s the first 9-to-5 I’ve had in four years. Life is easier when you can arrange it, but there was something nice about retail’s irregularity. Maybe I’ll take more walks, keep on my toes. Or maybe I won’t. New things are never new for very long.

Currently Reading:
Tar Baby, Toni Morrison – Finished!! Lots of thoughts. I’ll have a review up soon, still deciding on the next book.

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“I tell my students, ‘When you get these jobs that you have been so brilliantly trained for, just remember that your real job is that if you are free, you need to free somebody else. If you have some power, then your job is to empower somebody else. This is not just a grab-bag candy game.”- Toni Morrison