The Parable of the Coffee Shops

 In this last year, I have developed an obsession with light. Natural light. I think it started the afternoon I was in a colleagues home. This young woman bought her first house, and has done such a beautiful job in making it an oasis...of light....of comfort...of peace. I was loathe to leave when our meeting was over. That afternoon, I became fully aware of how dark and without any natural light Chez Kennedy is. I now lay awake at night envisioning skylights and transom windows....in the den, the kitchen, upstairs....
   So, the overbooking snafu at the Retreat Center (My room for Sunday night was given to a group that had been there for several days and extended their stay) turned out to be a blessing, because that is how I wound up in Oriental NC, in a perfect AirBnB for the first night of my adventure. Oriental is the Mother Lode of Natural Light. From my tiny garret bedroom to the Riverside Establishment where I had dinner to the Coffee Shop......ahhhh.....the Coffee Shop.
   As my hostess was acquainting me with my options for food, (She had a terrific information sheet), my eyes lit on the "COFFEE and BREAKFAST" section. I started to laugh, because the first entry was "The Bean". Sylvia gave me a quizzical look, and I explained that my Coffee Shop at home had the exact name, give or take a couple of letters.
   Everything in town was within walking distance, so Monday morning, (Before the fateful trip on the Ferry) I took myself on a long walk along the River, culminating in a visit to "The Bean".
   Located directly across from the harbor/marina, the Coffee Shop building is in what looks to be an old house, built up to withstand flooding. (It might be a newer build, but it was hard to tell). As I climbed the steps, I was greeted by a gaggle of retired folk, crowded around a table on the deck portion of the wrap around porch (You KNOW how much I love a good porch). There were a few open seats, and I hoped that one would still be open after I got my coffee and bagel. Inside...there was that magical light - It danced on the shimmering floor, bounced off of the high ceiling, and played about the counter. It was roomy inside, with lots of tables and chairs, dotted with early risers reading the paper...enjoying their morning brew.
   Once served, I returned to the porch, where there was one chair left. Yay me! I settled down to drink and eat, ignoring my book in favor of the view. The large group to my right was catching up after the weekend, one older Gentleman sharing his excitement over the successful introduction of his boyfriend to his Children....to my left several strangers had struck up a conversation - and I learned that one of the ladies had grown up in the house just opposite - a beauty of a Victorian, right on the Waterfront. She was home, visiting her Mother. As I ate and drank, a steady stream of people entered the shop. Very few exited.
   My coffee shop (Which I ABSOLUTELY LOVE) is just the antithesis of it's Riverside Almost Namesake....it is dark and moody....artsy and boho....all things that resonate deeply with me. The tables are spread out, so that each becomes it's own oasis of humanity....separate and somehow unapproachable. Great for private conversations or solitude.
   Looking at my watch, I saw that my departure time was at hand. I drank the last of my coffee, picked up my bagel plate, and made for the shop to deposit my china in the bus tray...As I opened the door, tears welled up in my eyes, because I was confronted by what had happened to all of the customers,  that had entered but not exited. There....20 or more folks - young, old, affluent, blue collar - had pushed table after table together until they were lined up as one long table - neighbors and strangers communing in laughter, caffeine and light.....oh....the light. A community of inclusion. Welcoming. Warm. Inviting....thrumming with vitality.
   I stood on the porch before I left - torn between leaving and staying. I watched the woman who had grown up across the street walk down the steep steps and mount an old bicycle. As she passed her childhood home, she let loose of the handle bars. This woman in her 60's threw her head back, and made airplane wings out of her arms...riding out of sight with a smile on her lips, the sun on her face - memories of another time dancing in her heart.
   Two coffee shops. One dark and moody....tables that are fortified islands in an oasis of humanity. One full of light and inclusion and ......community.

I am a native in this little town of mine, but I feel  no community in this ofttimes rigid, aloof, good old boy, class preoccupied berg. I feel no life....I feel no light.

I find myself in this crossroads where I have a seat at the dark, isolated, solitary table when I want a seat at the table of light...a table that expands to include and embrace each person as they enter. I want a full table that pulses with life and openness and energizing creativity.

I spent a fair amount of time during my week of silence thinking about the two tables - the two coffee shops...the gulf between what is and what could be....the difference between making peace with my surroundings and giving in to them....wondering if I am up to the task of one more DIY project...that of creating the table of my longing with scant raw materials and resources...adding skylights and transom windows to the small solitary life that I find myself living...The Parable of the Coffee Shops. ...worthy of contemplation.