Sitting in the sun outside a coffee shop, I get this overwhelming feeling of… anger

No.

Resentment.

Resentment of where I am. Living in the present isn’t any fun compared to living in your own romanticized past.

I can’t go back. The only things left in the past is what I wish to forget, I took all of the good stuff with me. I have to keep walking, but my feet hurt, my eyes are watering, and the wind keeps whipping.

I’m in the middle of a long drive, and the only things around me are corn fields, and the houses of the farmers who gave up where I was at and began cornfields. That and a perma-blue sky.

I’m at work. Working at my life not for what is now, but for what it will become from this time. I’ve clocked in and now I’m waiting out the clock.

In fact I’m now where. I’m outside of a coffee shop. Now resumed from the escapism of romanticing my own discomfort.

I am nowhere. I simply am. And will be for a while.

The sun illuminates on my face as the wind passes through my locks. No one around will ever know my thoughts. Just feet ahead of me is the girl of my dreams so unreal and kind, she Will be mine. Her skin smooth and pale as she sits oh so elegantly, she can’t know as I wave of possession passes over me. Greed and dark thoughts consume my mind, although, I keep smiling as If I’m just fine. She glances up at me, oh she’s so cute, and smiles, my desire to have her is absolute. I can’t help but wonder how she would react, When her legs are no longer intact She will be mine and that’s a fact, No one else’s, and I’ll make sure of that.

Finally drifting Riding with the wind Floating across the sky With pretty, soft clouds Watching the world Adrift

But what if I get swept up in the winds And these peaceful skies Turn to hurricanes The wild winds I know so well

Twisting and spinning Not knowing where But knowing you’re going Someplace, somewhere With no control

And my mind is back in that moment Calm and comforted Realizing that for now It’s all just anticipation The world is still sunlit But I know It takes almost nothing at all To surge up a hurricane

I grasped my Vanilla Bean Dream latte, lifted it to my lips, took a large gulp, and then licked away my foam mustache. I took a deep breath and noticed the trees with rustic leaves against a royal blue sky. I smiled. I was pervaded by warmth and gratitude.

The feeling creeps slowly, filling my bones with a deep sense of nostalgia. I remember the days I was young, sitting in the same spot outside the cafe. I was clueless, free, and hopeful. My dreams were wild and tasteful, but now those dreams have disappeared into solemn ashes, burned away by the fire of the world.

The warmth of the sun does nothing to warm the coldness of nostalgia. The feeling stabs my heart, pain beats after beats. I try and shake the feeling from my mind, but still it creeps, reminding me of my failure.

Sitting at this cafe, I am nothing but a working woman, with a cycling life that never seeks difference. As nostalgic bites at me as I sip my coffee I come to a finally thought, I will attempt to change my life only so that nostalgic won’t hurt as much.

I know everything is okay right now. It doesn’t matter what happenes tomorrow or what happened yesterday. Right now I’m living in the now. I just want to sip the coffee and enjoy the now. I don’t have to worry about the yet. Right now I want to ignore all the things that make the world crazy. Right now is the time for peace.

Sitting in her minivan in the grocery store parking lot, she felt anchored to the drivers seat. She knew she had to muster the will to go inside. Her to-do list has no bottom. But right now? She was just going to sit there, all alone in deafening but glorious silence. How long could I sit here, she wondered, without rousing suspicion about what’s taking her so long to get back home.

Meanwhile, her otherwise capable husband is probably overwhelmed. The kids are probably bickering. Everyone is probably getting hungry. His patience is wearing thin. She knows she will return to a house probably tense with unmet expectations.

She will probably hear, “I’m hungry,” before she even gets the first load of grocery bags into the house. It usually takes 4 trips from the van to the house to unload the volume of food it takes to feed this family.

When she was younger, she had romantic ideas about what motherhood would look like. This isn’t that. No one sees past the Pampers commercials, with quiet, sleeping, sweet smelling babies, when they pine for those two pink lines. Before you actually have kids, when the babies are abstract achievements to mark progress in adulting, you fantasize about adorable onesies with funny sayings and becoming the kind of mom who makes her own organic baby food. There are so many accessories for new moms. Where are the fun accessories for moms of kids old enough to talk to back but young enough to still want hugs?

She felt like an asshole. She wanted this life, hadn’t she? She wanted the husband and the kids and even the minivan. She got all of it. And now, she just needed a break. This grocery store parking lot, with the warmth of the sun permeating through the windshield, is the only break she’ll get today, until the kids are in bed for the night.

Contemptment flooding over you like a cool, refreshing wave on a hot summer day. In reality, maybe that’s just the sweat dripping down your back from the harsh midday sun beating down on your skin. Either way, you’re happy to be outside and indulging in some much needed and well deserved alone time - even if you made the poor decision to sit outside in the hot sun with an even hotter coffee instead of in the cool air-conditioning that beckons you back inside.

You try and ignore the bead of sweat dripping down your back as you bring your freshly purchased book up towards your flushed face, desperate to drown out your discomforts. Why did you order a hot coffee again? Well in truth, you did say iced coffee but the pretty, blue haired lady at the front counter didn’t hear you say the first word and you were too nervous to speak up when they placed a hot coffee down in front of you. And so here you sit, contemplating the small decisions that have led you to this string of thoughts.

You know what? No, you’re a twenty-six year old woman and you’re going to say something, dang it! Mustering the courage to pick up the steaming cup of coffee, you march over there with such intent that slowly fizzles with each step closer to the counter.

“Erm, pardon me. Sorry to bother you but this was meant to be an iced coffee. I’m so sorry to bother you. Can you please switch it for me? I’m happy to pay the differen-“

The barista interrupts with an apology and is already taking the coffee with a sweet, comforting smile. You breathe a sigh of relief. You turn to head back outside to your table, before a feeling of confidence strikes. This is your day, you have earned this time of rest and relaxation and so that is what you shall have!

“Could you please deliver it to that table instead?” You conjure up, pointing towards a secluded corner inside underneath the air conditioning unit.

The barista thinks nothing of it, even though you’ve just spent the last ten minutes building it up in your head. Funny that, isn’t it? How big small discomforts feel in your own mind, yet how utterly mundane they are to everyone else. Today is your day, you remind yourself. Your iced coffee, the cool air-conditioning, your new book, your calm mind. You are allowed these indulgences.

Ten minutes pass before goosebumps arise on your arm from the blaring air-conditioning, the breeze brushing over your skin repeatedly. Your fingers feel a little stiff as you turn the pages to your book. Maybe you should’ve bought your jacket. And so the cycle continues.

‘One cold brew with two shots hazelnut and a dash of oat milk’ Ahmed muttered to the beaming barista. How unfitting. No one has the right to be that cheerful at six in the morning. ‘And who will that be for?’ questioned the ever grinning coffee distributor. ‘Uh… Ahmed’ was the slightly stuttered reply Ahmed gave. ‘Okay uh Ahmed, that’ll be ready by the counter’ the cheery bugger managed in between guffaws at this ridiculously repulsive joke.

Ahmed brushed off that awkward interaction and set off to find a nesting spot to wait for the glorified bean juice. He settled on a sofa near the towering window overlooking a blossoming scenery. People ambled leisurely by and the air seemed thick with a morning dew. Ahmed breathed in the cold air and his breath fell perfectly in tune with the Mother Nature. A deep sense of nirvana came over Ahmed as the new day washed over. Waves of calm lapped at his feet. Swish. Froth. Swish.

Crash.

A tidal wave. Unexpected but in a much more real sense, fully expected. Sadness tended to hit like a car crash the moment Ahmed felt under control. Yet this time it felt like a truck collision on the freeway, the vehicle was totalled. Ahmed sat with this feeling, knowing exactly what was coming next, dreading it with every inch of his body.

First the heavy breathing, the stifling ball that sat stagnant in your throat. Heavy, furiously beating heart. Perspiration. Wanting to scream but not having the…

Voice.

Ahmed heard a voice cut through the third panic attack of this week.

‘Sir? Will you be picking up your drink?’ the wretched beaming barrister had approached Ahmed at this unfortunate moment.

He pushed past the ball of sunshine and ran towards the bathroom. Locking himself in a cubicle, Ahmed stared into the mirror and began the gruelling process.

Remember what Dr Fraser said. Count three breathe in, count five breath out. You can do this Ahmed come on. All the money you spent on the stupid therapy shit and you can’t even breathe? The one thing you have to do as a human and you can’t do that? Useless, you’re fucking useless.

Ahmed slumped over, bursting into tears. Salty oceans poured down his face, a pathetic sight but lamentable nonetheless. Ironically, Ahmed should’ve expected this. I wonder why he even stepped into that coffee shop in the first place. The moment something good happened, something bad had to follow. One of the many curses of his mental state. Should’ve just sat at home. Maybe he’ll learn one day.

The first warm day of Spring I got in the car and drove to the bistro. It wasn’t about the food, but it was the overwhelming urge to grab a coffee not brewed by me and sit outside in the sun. It was also lovely to just sit alone.

I went in and ordered the most complex drink I could think of and smiled as I carried it outside and sank down onto one of the comfortable wrought iron chairs and just sighed with the pure pleasure of feeling the winter days ebbing. There were small birds hopping around in between the table legs, scrounging for any scraps inadvertently dropped, and I smiled as I watched them scrabble for what they could find, squabbling with each other when one of them managed to nab a speck of croissant or muffin.

I was overwhelmed with a sense of pure delight that we had made it through the past year of the pandemic quarantine. My husband and I are, by nature, extroverts and comfortable with each other and with long weeks of reading and doing simple little things that broke up our days. But oh! How I had missed seeing the faces of other people and sitting and observing the rhythms of life. I thought how small pleasures could take on such importance when one has been denied those things for months and months; a cup of coffee, the sun on my face, a bevy of pecking birds.