Contentment
"Hello, my sweet," he leaned forward and kissed me, then went inside to get his hazelnut latte.
It was early June, and I had been waiting a little while for him on a sidewalk bench outside Starbucks at the corner of Main and 14th. I watched other people admire his shiny motorcycle, then he rounded the corner and joined me on the bench.
We chatted casually for just a few minutes, and he had only taken a couple of sips of his coffee, when it suddenly started raining. He jumped up with a smile and said, "I have to go, quick, before it soaks me."
He kissed me good-bye with a promise to call me when he got home, and with a brief roar of his bike, he was gone.
I had nothing else to do but sit under the awning outside and finish the last of my own coffee. It was a lovely night, the warm spring rain was soothing, and I was only a short 10-minute walk away from home. I glanced over to the cup he'd left behind, and I shrugged and picked it up, happy to put my lips where his had only recently been.
"I'm completely content," I thought, with a half-smile that stayed. It was a good good feeling for me, being a person who often feels wistful and wondering. But that night, I had a boyfriend who treated me well, whom I enjoyed spending time with. I had played volleyball earlier in the evening on the beach with good friends, I was looking forward to summer vacation, and my life felt secure.
I didn't care that I might be buzzed from two cups of coffee in the evening, and I finished the second cup as the rain eased off a little. I crossed the street to buy some bus tickets to use later in the week, and I walked home.
Little did I know that this was the calm before utter chaos.
It was early June, and I had been waiting a little while for him on a sidewalk bench outside Starbucks at the corner of Main and 14th. I watched other people admire his shiny motorcycle, then he rounded the corner and joined me on the bench.
We chatted casually for just a few minutes, and he had only taken a couple of sips of his coffee, when it suddenly started raining. He jumped up with a smile and said, "I have to go, quick, before it soaks me."
He kissed me good-bye with a promise to call me when he got home, and with a brief roar of his bike, he was gone.
I had nothing else to do but sit under the awning outside and finish the last of my own coffee. It was a lovely night, the warm spring rain was soothing, and I was only a short 10-minute walk away from home. I glanced over to the cup he'd left behind, and I shrugged and picked it up, happy to put my lips where his had only recently been.
"I'm completely content," I thought, with a half-smile that stayed. It was a good good feeling for me, being a person who often feels wistful and wondering. But that night, I had a boyfriend who treated me well, whom I enjoyed spending time with. I had played volleyball earlier in the evening on the beach with good friends, I was looking forward to summer vacation, and my life felt secure.
I didn't care that I might be buzzed from two cups of coffee in the evening, and I finished the second cup as the rain eased off a little. I crossed the street to buy some bus tickets to use later in the week, and I walked home.
Little did I know that this was the calm before utter chaos.
posted by Tracey at
9:55 PM
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