So I'm sitting at the coffee shop today wondering how many other people come here for the same reasons I do. I don't drink coffee; the aroma is lovely, but I prefer tea. The truth is, I come here so I don't have to be completely alone. Going home means the stillness of only myself.  Being at the coffee shop I can sit at my table and read or write, drink my tea, and all the while be surrounded by the comfort of the sights and sounds of other people. 

I guess that sounds a little sad, maybe a little self-pitiful.  I don't mean it to sound that way. I just enjoy the comfort of the busyness of people coming and going. Being alone isn't something I have ever enjoyed. Silence is not my friend.

When I'm home I must have constant noise. The television. A radio. The stereo.  When I had family in the house it was wonderful; always a guarantee of comings and goings, chatter and noise of one kind or another.  The coffee shop is more or less white noise to me.  The clink of a coffee cup, whoosh of a cappacino machine, shuffle of feet, chairs being scraped or knocked about, or the murmur of a conversation.  It's a sense of peace for me. I would stay here for hours if I could.

Of course, there is something else I enjoy. People watching.  I come here about the same time every afternoon and now that I've been doing this for a while I notice some of the same people coming in on a regular basis, keeping a routine, making the coffee shop a part of their life. Some people catch my interest more than others, like the older gentleman who comes in with his wife every afternoon. She seems to be a little ill and I wonder if this is their regular daily excursion, designed for them both to get a little fresh air and for her to get some exercise of some sort. He very sweetly helps her from the car, inside the shop to a table or to a patio table if the weather is nice, and then orders their coffee.  Her hands shake and she sometimes has trouble controlling the coffee cup but he's always patient and has a napkin handy to wipe up any accidents or keep her tidy.  Every touch is gentle and offered with a smile, every word is comforting.  He isn't waiting on her, he's caring for her.  He's cherishing each opportunity to do for her what she can no longer do for herself. He's making love to her the only way he can.  It's beautiful to watch.

On Friday afternoons, a young father comes in with his little girl. He's a handsome man, probably about 35 or so.  She looks like she might be about 4 and she is adorable.  (Why is it that little ones get the shiniest hair and the brightest eyes?) I think he picks her up from daycare for daddy weekends and this is their treat together.  I can't tell what he orders but she gets apple juice and a cookie. She giggles alot, her daddy must be very funny.  It's refreshing to see the way he is so attentive to her.  He doesn't have his cell phone out, he never even checks it. The only thing in the world that exists is that little girl.  He actually talks to her and listens to her, and enjoys her company. Who does that anymore? It seems like everywhere I go I see parents out with children but they have cell phones stuck to their ears and the kids are being ignored.  Here's a man who has forsaken that trend, hopefully forever.

Then there's my favorite person to watch. My Coffee Shop Man. The object of my previous post.  McCoffeeDreamy? McDreamyCoffee? No, let's not do that.  We'll just stick with Coffee Shop Man.  He's worth a trip to the coffee shop.  Definitely.  I've watched him for weeks. He comes in, orders coffee and sits alone.  Sometimes he reads a book or the newspaper, sometimes he has a laptop and is busy with it for a while.  Other times he sits quietly with his thoughts. I've never seen him talking on a cell phone or to anyone except a friendly exchange when he enters the shop and orders his coffee.  He doesn't wear a wedding ring.  He dresses casually but not as if he doesn't work or has nowhere to go each day.  He's a mystery.  A very handsome mystery. 

I've created all kinds of stories about him in my head. I know, I know - so creepy.  (Really? You think so?)  I want so badly to come up with a reason to speak to him. Do I need a reason? I can't seem to come up with the courage to just say hello.   Once or twice I've smiled at him and he's smiled back but I looked away and I know I blushed and... how old am I? Geeeez!  I'm a grown woman acting like a teenager for goodness sake.  Why can't I just....... 

Oh wait...shhhhh...act normal!  Here he is!