Coffee shops inspire me.
They inspire me to write, to watch, to wish, to wait.
I don't think it has anything to do with caffeine, but rather the ability to escape campus not be known. I'm not sure I've ever visited a coffee shop (Starbucks doesn't count) for the sole purpose of buying coffee.
I prefer to linger.
To camp out.
To think, study, write, spread out.
I sit, with my feet propped up on the chair across from me, people-watching. An old man with an oxygen tank plays dominoes with a singing young man with a deep voice and a petite girl dressed in striped tights, boots, and hippie layers. Piercings adorn many of the patrons. The same colored pencil lady from Hippies & Rainbows sits at the other window. This is where I sat last March and it's good to be back.
This is the coffee shop where I spent 4 hours convincing a student that she was loveable.
This is where I sat with my pastor who affirmed me in the pursuit of my future dreams.
Today, my small window-side table is cluttered with a peanut butter cookie, my journal, two versions of the Bible, two books, notes for chapel, a pen, my cellphone, and my headphones. It's here that I can reflect and be still.
Here, rather than at home, I don't feel like I'm at work. It's my Sabbath day, after all, and I live at work.