The Coffee Shop

I have this thing where whenever I visit a new town, I almost always end up at the local coffee shop my first morning there.

Not because I'm some sort of coffee connoisseur, although I do know my way around a good latte, but because a little local coffee shop can tell you a lot about a town. And I don't just mean their taste in artisanal coffee blends.

People linger in coffee shops.

They catch up with old friends.

They read books they've been meaning to finish for six months.

People are simply living their lives while sharing one little corner of the world for an hour or two.

A while back I was sitting at The Press which just so happens to be MY favorite local coffee shop and I started noticing everyone around me.

There was a man sharing a croissant with his giant Newfoundland.

A young mom treating herself to a latte while her little boy proudly showed everyone within a ten-foot radius the toy tractor he'd brought with him.

A college student with three empty coffee cups and what I can only assume was an unhealthy amount of confidence that she'd finish her paper before the deadline.

Nobody knew each other..at least I don't think they did.

Yet somehow, they were all sharing the same little coffee shop while living completely different lives.

I actually have the word sonder tattooed on my arm which you might be wondering how that is relevant to coffee shops, or anything for that matter.

But the word sonder means realizing every person you pass is living a life just as rich, complicated, and meaningful as your own.

I’ve always been curious and enjoyed people watching and imagining their story..and what better place to do that than a coffee shop.

So I wonder..

Did that older gentleman with his giant dog come here every Thursday morning after retiring?

Was the stressed out college student finally turning in the paper she'd been putting off all week?

Will that little boy with his tractor grow up and remember Saturday mornings at the coffee shop with his mom, or will it slowly be filed away in the back of his mind only to be remembered in short bursts.

I'll probably never know.

The unknown and stories left unfinished leave my mind to wander and fill in the pieces however I imagine.

But what I do know is that people still make room for one another in small towns.

They hold the door open.

They smile when someone walks in.

The barista remembers your order.

The little things that make you feel noticed in a giant world full of busy people.

So when someone tells me they're moving somewhere new, my mind doesn't immediately go to neighborhoods or the busiest streets in town. I wonder where they'll end up getting coffee on Saturday mornings. Which local restaurant they'll accidentally become regulars at. Where they'll buy birthday cakes. And which roads they'll learn by heart.

Because eventually all those little places start feeling just as familiar as your own living room.

That’s the beautiful thing about home.

It isn't one address. It's a collection of places and ordinary moments.

A collection of people who, little by little, stop feeling like strangers.

And if you ask me...

That's a pretty good sign you've found the right town.

xoxo,

Mary Elizabeth