On Sunday mornings, I try to get up early and post up in a neighborhood coffee shop for writing practice. I read a chapter of Natalie Goldberg’s Wild Mind: Living the Writer’s Life and spend 10 uninterrupted minutes capturing my surroundings.
Here at Rising Star, there is a design in my Promised Land latte and a family of three sits in front of me. The wife wears a wide-brimmed straw hat. The daughter, a blonde-toddler, wants to know if it’s time to go to the playground. She asks four times between three sips of my latte.
Behind me, an Asian woman, middle-aged, sits with her laptop at the counter. Tucked in a corner, earbuds in her ears. She had to come here for quiet and focus. Is her home too loud? Or too lonely?
Two buddies just walked in. Their pullovers say they’re stopping for a pre-golf coffee but their jeans say otherwise.
The barista is petite with tattoos along her left arm. She wears her jeans well and a blue bandana covers a fluffy brown bob that barely scrapes the top of her shoulders. She didn’t wash her hair this morning. Her eyes briefly linger on a dreadlocked man in a black hoodie when he walks in. Is that caution or interest? He came in with a wife (partner?) and a toddler. It was definitely interest.