Thursday Rituals

Bliss for the second time has been a Thursday morning. I've decided upon a new ritual. Found a Christmas starbucks card which was still loaded and decided that every Thursday after drop off at school, would be the morning I go out and check out civilization and return my library books. I call this bliss, because how many times have I/you/we wandered into a Starbucks in the morning and wondered, "How does these folks get to do this... order a coffee at 8:50, sit down and do nothing but stare, read, chat, or type" Those Stay at homes, so jealous. Now I feel like I am living it, all the while trying to get well. It's a pretty glorious freedom right now. So back to Starbucks... here I sit making up stories of the people here. Well I suspect, the moms in spandex yoga pants have just dropped off the kids down the street, and are getting their coffee, and will go to Target and the gym. I guess this because its what I am going to do and what I am wearing. Hilarious. But what about that old guy over there in the purple hightop Nikes? He's rocking jeans, high tops in purple, a full head of grey hair, a leather jacket, and a hand held every so permanently on his coffee cup without its lid. His mouth is slightly open at all times and he is a handsome 70+. Why is he here and what is he thinking about? He makes eye contact with every person that walks in through the door. He's gotta be thinking about something. Maybe he's so into the fact that he is out and about after the death of his beloved wife, drinking modern bitter coffee and liking it. All the while he watches the young and old enter in and out of the store. Then there is the kid who is here every morning. I've even seen him here in the summertime. After high school age, maybe community college age. Is he here to study? Nope. He is here to play some crazy ass video game. His mind is on super circuit as he shifts from screen to screen. His ears on on overload because his sound blocking BOSE headphones keep all the noise of the real world out of his game so he can focus on the loud KABLAMS of the machine rifles. Then there is the anorexic rich mom who somehow with a bandanna, painted manicured nails, and a dirty bun still looks like she is holding court. She seems to know a lot of folks here at the corner of LaGrange town. Another NorthFace mom with her mother, just walked past, says hi and now there is a gaggle of women talking about how bad they feel and how her nose is just dripping and dripping from the cold that her kid just got over. That is why she is here this morning. She has her kid's cold. The guy next to me keeps reading over my shoulder wondering when and if I am going to make up speculation about him. I am not. He has a nice full beard. UPDATE: Back to the old guy. He just got up, walked out, put on a ripped baseball hat to reveal ripped jeans, ripped mittens, and a cigarello. His leather coat is stitched with white thread in the back. It looks as if it was done by a second grade sewer and is barely holding the stuffing of his coat. Off he goes don the sidewalk hobbling in his hightops. I can't figure his story anymore. Lastly a gentleman just walked in the door who caught my eye and made my head peek up. I thought it was Noah. Looked similar to him and I had this immediate thought, "I love my husband and he still makes my heart skip a beat." This is bliss and I count my blessings between this morning's barfing.