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Mocha and random thoughts

March 8, 2011

That time between 6-7pm on a Sunday evening where everything looks deserted, the shopping centres close and the streets look lifeless.  Where do all the people go?  Around the same time, coffee houses, pubs and restaurants are greeted with an influx of people with their friends and families, laughing and gossiping and treasuring the carefree moments spent together before the tedious week begins again.

So there I was, 6.30pm on Sunday evening sitting in a coffee shop with a friend; the most amazing mocha in front of me along with a slice of cake, bliss.  The atmosphere was laid back; music playing in the background, the sound of people talking in groups and laughing, the sound of coffee cups and spoons, the sound of happiness.  There was a middle-aged couple talking and smiling over some coffee; probably married I assumed.  A group of four not-boys but not-yet-men were sitting around one of the tables looking around to catch sight of something pretty.  Laugher erupted from a group of women in their twenties from a nearby table.

Halfway through my amazing mocha (trust me it was the most amazing mocha in the world!) I noticed an elderly lady on her own heading my way.  Her coat was torn and on her arm, hung a rapidly ageing handbag.  Her legs were swollen, and her feet were stuffed into shoes that looked like they had walked to Australia and back.  Her faced was wrinkled heavily, and her eyes were dull like the life had been drained out of them from all the sorrows in life.

She sat down on the table next to me in a position opposite me on her own, a lone cup of coffee in front of her.  She drank in silence, her eyes fixed to a spot on the table and her expression unchanging, unsmiling.  Around her, the coffee house buzzed with smiles, talk and laughter.  And there she was in the middle of the coffee house, alone, unnoticed, and unacknowledged.

I can’t explain why she stood out to me, but she did.  She brought with her something that was directly opposite to the atmosphere in the coffee house at the time, I wondered where she came from, where she would go and what her story was.

5 Comments leave one →
  1. lifewith4cats permalink
    March 8, 2011 2:24 am

    I would have tried to talk to that woman, maybe.
    Alone old people always make me curious. I always wonder why. I guesse its because I dont want to end up alone when I am old. and other times old people have the most amazing stories to tell about their lives from simpler times. They are like living history books.

    I like making old people go down memory lane because their face lights up.

    • March 12, 2011 11:47 pm

      Making old people go down memory lane is the best 🙂 their stories are always amazing – and I regret not trying to talk to her.

      • March 15, 2011 10:45 am

        would’ve been a heck of a story I believe… an facial expression that deep, a demeanour so captivating is bound to have a great story hidden beyond the facade.

  2. March 8, 2011 10:16 am

    You captured the beauty of public places perfectly. But a woman like that would make my heart ache a bit.

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