Coffee and Conversation

Today, I met up with a old friend. 

She used to be a tenant. Tim got such a kick out her and her ways, although I don't believe he ever learned to say her name properly. In fairly short order, she came to us. She wanted to leave. She was a friendly Indian girl, definitely her own person, open minded, big ideas, big energy, a bohemian. Her unusual nature had caused her to be rejected by her family. We knew that it was a struggle for her here. She simply didn't 'fit' in our small town. You could tell that she was meant to be somewhere else. 

We released her from her lease with our blessings and best wishes.

 She headed off to the big city, moving to Philadelphia, where she became quickly involved in the local community tending to the 'fringe people', the marginalized people who needed help. We've always kept in touch in these five years or more that she's been moved away, and I've been very proud of her and her generous and loving soul and the good that she does in her community. 

She messaged me and told me she was in town to visit, asked me if I wanted to join her for coffee. I did want to, very much. I was a bit bleary from a morning with  my books and from trying to write a short presentation which did not flow easily for me. I felt dumb and bleary and brain dead. 

 It was a beautiful sunshiny day. I suppose we looked like an odd pair, her a bohemian still,  with back pack, her lively chatter. Contrast that with me, gray haired and staid, and in most desperate need of that coffee in my hand. We sat across from each other at a table on the sidewalk, properly socially distanced and talked intently, nonstop, for over an hour, ideas and revelations flowing back and forth freely. 

Quite oddly enough, something she said triggered something that fit in with one of the points from my book. 

"You know," I said, "I just read something this morning..." and she listened and she nodded in her excited way. "Yes!" she exclaimed, and in the ensuing discussion I felt like the points that I struggled with that morning were being rehashed in a way that made perfect sense. 

It was so wonderful to catch up, and when I got up to head back to my car, I felt alert and refreshed. Not brain dead at all.

I don't think it was just because of the coffee. 

Side note: once home, pondering our conversations as I cooked supper, it came to me, the format and how to organize my thoughts for that paper. This morning, I got up, sat down and typed it out. In less than an hour, I'd printed it out. That was a relief.