Posts Tagged ‘Kindness’

“I know where you live.”

I stop mid pour. The rich smell reaches my nose and it’s glorious, despite not being able to stomach the stuff.

“I don’t think you do.” I say calmly, tipping the pot once again. Little coffee bubbles dance on the old Formica countertop.

“I do,” he says. “Saw you outside the Laundromat last week. You were driving that old green wagon.”

He takes a sip and closes his eyes as if it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. His lips pull into a wide, flat line.

“Yeah, well I don’t live at the Laundromat.” I joke.

It’s the simple things, isn’t it?” He sighs. “Coffee, black and hot. Cures whatever ails.”

“I don’t drink it,” I tell him. “But I imagine if I did, I’d be dousing it with cream and sugar.”

“Nah, that stuff just smothers the quality of the bean. I like to know what I’m drinking.” His eyes are still closed but they open when he asks; “How in the world can you work in a diner and not drink coffee?”

“Love the smell, can’t stand the taste.”

“Ah, it can be a cruel, cruel world.” He nods and smiles a little wider, exposing surprisingly white teeth from behind his reed-thin lips.


Slamming my chit on the spike, I grab his order from under the warmer and set it in front of him. Two eggs, sunny side up, extra crispy bacon and sourdough toast, lightly buttered.

“How long you had that car?” He asks.

As he snaps off a piece of bacon and dips it in the ketchup he’s squirted on the edge of the plate, I can’t help but wonder where his sense of quality is now.

“Four years,” I answer. “My Grandma left it to me.”

The dark moons under his nails loosely string each finger together like a black crepe streamer and his clothes are on the worn side of things, much like his skin, supple and weathered.

“Ah, a treasure then. It’s a ’73, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, how did you…?”

“Lucky guess,” he says. “We used to have one back in the day. I learned to drive in it.” He chuckles. “Showing my age now, I suppose.”

“More?” I hold the pot over his almost empty cup.

He nods. I pour.

Despite his ruffled appearance, I can smell fresh shampoo and sharp aftershave as I lean in to wipe up the drips.

“It was a guilt gift,” I confess. “She wanted nothing to do with me. The car made her feel better.”

“Did it make you feel better?”

“Probably not for the right reasons,” I admit. “It’s the only thing I own. It’s more important than it should be now.”

“I’ll take it off your hands.” He offers and slides his business card across the counter. It claims he’s the owner of the Green Bean Organic Coffee Plant. The same coffee we use in the diner.

“I can’t. I still need it.”

“If you didn’t have it, where would you be?”

“Um, taking the bus?” My eyes shift.

“Sometimes it’s good to rid yourself of things that are holding you back.”

“I told you, I still need it.” I look away. “Why are you so hot for my car anyway?

“I could say it’s because it’s green. Or because, like I said, I learned to drive in that very same car.”

He lightly knocks his fist twice on the countertop. “

“But, I’d be lying. It’s because I know where you live.”

Green 1973 Wagon

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It’s a cozy little place, this blogosphere. At first, I was tentative, holding out. Afraid of scrutiny and criticism yes, but exposure…now that was the scary, no…terrifying, Walking Dead zombie, trapped in a sinking car, hanging off a ledge clinging to a loose rock kind of fear I had of this place…this place, that I now think of as home.

Inhibitions on the back burner, I feel excited to cast out my thoughts and words. My heart pounds as I click my stats and wait for views to appear. It skips a beat when that icon turns orange showing I have a new comment, like or follow. Yes, I admit it. I post. I wait. I hope.

But, like everyone else, I was once unsure. It’s a very bizarre conundrum; loving… longing to write but scared shitless someone might read it.

I’ve come a long way. When I was a child I scribbled stories and ripped them up, afraid, even to keep a journal. Not for fear of my thoughts being read, but that someone would know I’d been writing. The confusing feeling haunts me to this day.

A couple of years ago I did the NaNoWriMo challenge. I wrote and I wrote. It was a huge part of my life for thirty days. I could in fact say that it consumed me. But…I didn’t tell anyone. Obviously, I had to explain to my immediate family why I was less than present, but besides them and the one friend I was taking the challenge with, I told no one else. And, I did not, could not even tell those few who knew about my undertaking what I was writing about. I wrote sixty thousand words and each one of them, my spooky little secret.

I have a similar squeeze when I finish someone’s make-up. When they look in the mirror or stand in front of the camera for the first time, my body seizes and I feel despair that my art is about to be unveiled and subsequently, examined.

Now, I’m posting for the world (hardy, har, har, I wish) to see.

Yes, I’ve come a long way.

The fear has subsided. I still flush as I hit publish, much I’m sure, like a performer about to hit the stage for the…what number is this…twenty-fifth time, still slightly wet behind the ears, but bolstered. Bolstered, thanks to viewers, screaming fans, readers, commenters…pick your poison. They’re all reassuring.

One of the first people to throw my name and “writer” together was P.C. Zick and I am truly grateful to her for that. I am also very grateful (in no particular order) to the following bloggers for many different reasons; their friendship, their support, their writing, their endeavors and their honesty, just to name a few:

1. P.C. Zick http://pczick.wordpress.com/

2. Saige Wisdom http://saigewisdom.blogspot.ca/

3. Lesley Richardson http://www.standingnakedatabusstop.com/

4. Year of Austere http://yearofaustere.wordpress.com

5. Nicole Jane Home http://blog.nicolejane.com/

6. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot 4 http://whiskeytangofoxtrot4.wordpress.com/

7. Sylvia Behnish http://www.thecreativenesswithinme.blogspot.ca/

8. Lewis Thomson http://lth0ms0n.wordpress.com/

9. TK Butterfly http://teekay16.wordpress.com/

10. Rachel Carter http://rachelcarter.me/

11. Ashley Jillian http://ashleyjillian.com/

12. http://secretdiaryofadublincallgirl.wordpress.com/

13. Bethany Lovell http://froggology.blogspot.ca/

14. Adam Martin http://livelikeagrownup.wordpress.com/

15. Carole Bell http://ringmybell-cybell.blogspot.ca/

Write it – Walk it – Own it

Surprisingly, I’ve been nominated for the Inspiring Blog Award and the above fifteen bloggers are my nominees for the same. The named fifteen are now asked to pay it forward, so to speak. Write a post citing your nomination, a link to my post, fifteen nominees of your own and seven things about yourself. (although mine aren’t in bullet form, I believe I’ve woven at least seven in there somewhere, and if it’s less, don’t rat me out)

Thank you Patricia for the vote of confidence and for inspiring me to write today.

Thank you Bloggers, for overcoming whatever challenges you face in creating and relaying your craft to others. It’s an inspiration to us all.

Thank you readers, for perusing my murmurs and mutterings and making me feel like they’re worthy of a tiny piece of this sphere.

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