When Coffee is so much more . . .

I've been here before; sitting at Einstein Bagels considering why I'm not writing regularly. At this point, regularly doesn't even mean daily -- I'd take every other day, every third day. I'm in a writing rut without a doubt. I decided to fill just one napkin this morning - one napkin filled with words.*

This is a good place to sit; it's a neighborhood place. There are customers who come in on a regular schedule, people I know well enough to say hello to or to chat with for a couple of minutes. For several years, a small group of my friends and I were regulars. On Friday mornings, we would meet at 8 AM for one hour for coffee and .... conversation, friendship, and support. A touch-stone hour that kept us connected, We shared our lives over coffee and the news of engagements, graduations, upcoming vacation plans, parental illnesses, family news and changes, and the joy of grandchildren. We were good with one another - good listeners, able to offer advice and support based in caring and long term friendship. Then, we solved 'all the problems of the world' -- we were damn good at providing solutions. If only the world would listen to us.

With changing circumstances, the group sometimes shifted. Then, within our final group of three, one returned to school with an 8 AM start and another took on regular AM care of her grandson. Our group disbanded after many years. We were no longer Friday morning regulars.

I miss the notation in my calendar that read 'coffee' but needed no further explanation. It was coffee but so much more. Occasionally, we still get together when is is a holiday weekend or someone is visiting from out of town. I send out an email to see if anyone is available - usually two or three can make it. We all miss touching base with one another . . . our friendships go back two decades to when are children were in kindergarten or first grade. There was a rhythm to our week-by-week conversations; time for each of us to talk. Time to listen. Time to reflect, for even a minute or two, before answering.

A few months ago, a friend was visiting from Atlanta and five of us made time for coffee. It was wonderful to see everyone; we talked fast and furiously; often several conversations occurring simultaneously. I found it difficult to give anyone my full attention. After an absence of months, the rhythm was gone.

I miss being a regular.

*edited from the napkin