Tuesday, August 28, 2012

August 28, 2012

Early this morning at that coffee shop—a self-detachment experience. A “me” staring at “us” from across the street. And there I was, delightfully sipping a sweet Carmella de Ville all by myself; and the morning dark and bluish-gray with a tint of gold in the horizon, and across the street, the familiar coffee house where for the last 10+ years Mr. Pan and I have, and still do, meet every morning, around 7:00am. But he’s away from home traveling this morning, and thus, I decided to stopover at that other coffee house; so infrequently visited, although just across the street from one another. And I sat by that unfamiliar window, amazed at how life evolved and grew fascinating in front of my eyes... the ‘usual’ people walking in the old coffee place; the familiar ones, the uncommon, the tall ones, the big ones and the small ones, the old and young, and at one point in my contemplation there we were too—against the early dawn, crossing down the street towards the accustomed coffee house... and from my window my eyes followed us coming in, me a little ahead; he a little behind. Book in hand, and the morning’s chill, and the birds feeding out of the bird feeders on the slim maple tree and the street, long and narrow, lending the view of the obscures mountain in the distance...

Is that how people see us too? Do we all see the same?

I miss him. And so this longing coincides with the heart of the desperate. It is a daunting thought, and feeling.

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