coffee love

It happened like this:  one day last week in a fit of distraction she lost her driver’s license, her train pass and her health insurance card – all at once.  She had a foggy recollection of the last time she had held these items in her hand and then…nothing.  Just the usual blank spots in her head rattling around with half remnants of life’s errata.  Worse, she had traversed all around the city by the time she realized they were gone — the documents could be anywhere.

But today, when she looked up at the men in the coffee cart to order her usual items, the two men greeted her more warmly than usual.  They surprised her by leaving the confines of their metal cart, the boundaries of their relationship with her, and hugging her tightly.  “My dear,” they said, “where have you been these past few days?  What have you been doing? We have not seen you and we have been worried about you.”

She felt like she had just come home from a long journey and her family was welcoming her back.  And they had a gift for her: her lost documents.

They told her that they had been worried that she herself had become lost to them, and to the world perhaps, without those bits of identification and they were so so happy to see her alive.

It was the best cup of coffee she had had in a good long time.



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