Breaking New Grounds
My summer included three grown-up moments – of which I am naturally quite proud. One of these moments was at the local coffee shop. Down the street from us – where Washington crosses Main – stands a very happening place– The New Moon Café. I drive past this café daily on my way to work – and frequently on my way to other important places. Even from outside, I can see how hip it is. Hipness just oozes out the windows and doors – trust me. I always wanted to visit. But - -not being a coffee drinker, I knew that this was not the place for me. I would be an outsider. And goodness knows, as often as I move – I am certainly well versed in the world of outsider-ness – and am not purposefully looking for additional worlds in which to experience that! But – still the siren song of the little café on the corner continued to call to me each time I passed. One day, we acquired coupons for free coffees at The New Moon. I could hardly pass up free! I love free! After holding onto the coupons for about 5 months, John and I finally decided to visit. I guess we were just feeling bold.
Unbeknownst to us, Saturday evening must be “live music” night there. The night we visited, they were featuring something groovy from the dark side. We figured that out upon entering and realizing that we were the only people there without tattoos. Thinking quickly, I whipped out a Sharpie and wrote “I love mom” on John’s arm and drew a daisy on my ankle. We advanced to the counter – nervous because, well -- neither of us EVER, EVER drinks coffee. I actually have never had a cup – or even a sip of real coffee. We hoped we might be able to trade the coupons in for juice or something. No deal. And then something wonderful happened – the coffee girl looked deep into my soul and understood me. (Maybe it had something to do w/the daisy on my ankle.) She made me a chocolate-caramel-steamer. She put it in a real disposable coffee cup – added whip cream and put on the special white coffee cup lid. I stood there – sporting my daisy tattoo – holding my first real grown-up coffee cup. John and I found seats in shadows – along the back of the space – interlopers still. My beverage was delicious! I felt John should take my picture – wanting to capture forever that “first” in my life. Me, with my official coffee cup in hand – sitting in the café – with all of the hip coffee people milling about in the background.
Before we left, I felt I should specifically thank the coffee girl. After all, she had shared this milestone with me. We were connected in an intricate, important way. She, too, was thrilled with the moment and presented me with a coffee punch card, -- my first! – and generously punched four holes into it!
I left knowing I would never be the same – knowing from then on I could finally accept invitations to go to coffee – knowing I could confidently approach the counter – barking out my order “chocolate caramel steamer!” – knowing I would never again be an outsider in the coffee club! John had to wear a long sleeve shirt to church the next day – that Sharpie is really hard to wash off!
