I didn’t get out much last week.
When Saturday came around, I thought it might be a chance to enjoy a quiet coffee in my favourite cafe.
Seems like everyone else had the same idea…
This Sunday’s sermon mentioned something about “souls crying sideways” – when we don’t acknowledge pain and hurt, stuff it down inside, it tends to come out in other ways. That may be physical illness, mental instability, or maybe just crying copiously in public. Who knows? We all have our idiosyncrasies.
When I go out by myself for coffee (and cake š ) it tends to be a big deal for me, both because I generally have to spend a fair bit of my energy reserves to get there, and because I just enjoy the whole experience. I’m also not very good at suddenly changing plans.
Saturdays are very busy. My favourite cafe is very good, but I’ve come to realise that Saturday morning is not the best time for one person to be able to sit inside and enjoy a leisurely breakfast…
I had already had some problems with wobbly legs and shaky hands while walking down the street to get there, and the tables outside can be a bit wonky (there’s a bit of a hill). I had ordered a filter coffee, which I hadn’t realised didn’t come with milk. I couldn’t ask for milk easily because I couldn’t carry everything inside, although I did eventually get a small jug of milk. My cosy morning out was turning into a bit of an ordeal, which tipped over into chaos when I managed to tip the whole cup of coffee into my lap (shaky hands/small jug). Cue the crying!
I don’t identify myself exactly with the sideways crying scenario – I don’t think it was a case of stuffed emotions – more probably my energy levels just suddenly dipped into practically non-existent. The crying was definitely disproportionate to the event, though. Thankfully I can cry quietly š One of the other patrons did notice, and asked if I was OK. I took myself around the corner to calm down a bit, then went back to my table to try to finish the coffee that was left in the pot. It had, of course, been tidied away. š
My morning finished better than it started.
I got back in line to get a takeaway latte, which was given to me free, along with a lovely lemon slice. That kindness almost undid me (again) – none of it was the fault of the cafe, but they showed grace to the weeping twit in the shadows, when they would be well within their rights to ignore me.
I did some therapeutic shopping in the charity shop down the road, then spent some time in the library. No-one seemed to notice the huge coffee stains down my front, and they’d dried by then.
I haven’t got any deep philosophy to impart from all this, but I was reminded of an important truth while I was watching the last scene from the last season of House.
Time’s moving on…













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