It is the place where I feel so relaxed i could float. I am able to speak my mind, wear no mask, and laugh, speak and dream without abandon. It is the Coffee hour.
I have watched my Father live this ritual for years. When I was too little for school I would go with him to the "Travelers" where he would meet up with the same group of guys since he started working as boy. They would all order coffee. A ticket to the show, I always thought. Dad never really even like the stuff, but he liked the company. It was mostly loggers, a few others who grew up around here would join now and then. Politics would fly like a ping pong ball, never landing and never causing a rift but always making one "think". Religion was never discussed. But local news and game scores were a given. I was brought a cup of cocoa and a powdered doughnut. I listened, drew on a napkin and learned a lot.
As the years went on My Father continued to enjoy the Coffee hour. The restaurant changed hands and a new group of men had come; Realtors, lawyers, developers even poets. Only a handful of Loggers remained. But all coats were shed when the coffee was poured, and no one had anything to prove. They just enjoyed each others' company..."shootin' the breeze".
I guess as a grown woman now I longed for that ritual I had witnessed so often growing up. I wanted a connection. I wanted time with friends with no agenda. We live in a time where everything is going so fast, and there is always something to schedule, to accomplish, to prove. My generation grew up watching "friends", a sitcom of a group of very diverse people who got together everyday, to take time-out in a coffee house and were accepted by one another for who they were. I wanted that.
Awhile back I was invited to go to a local wine and coffee house for a knitting day. I was both intrigued and intimidated. I do not knit. But I liked the idea of "meeting at the coffee house". So I went. The girls there were a diverse group, everyone of them beautiful and accepting, and creative. I loved it, I loved talking about things and "shooting the breeze". I loved sipping my tea out of a cup that took both hands to hold. I did not accomplish knitting, in fact I vowed it would not be attempting it again! But they welcomed me back just the same. I have continued for over a year now. It is my therapy, my time to feel like Jennifer...just Jennifer. I have no scarf or afghan to show for it, but I have a happy heart and a group of gals that inspire me. I look forward to climbing the steps, getting a big chair by the fire, ordering my cup of Joe, and hearing what is happening with everyone...and there I fit.
