I used to live in a coffee shop. Well, not live, but I did spend a good amount of time pouring my soul out at that green corner table with the wobbly leg in college. I sipped coffee. I wrote poetry. I soaked in the vibe. Words, words, words. More coffee, please. Occasionally, I would even get into a crying fit if my words were really moving me. Weird, huh?
Here's the thing. I liked myself weird. Funky. Super creative in a bohemian poet/dark coffee drinking kind of way. A girl alone at the table in deep thought with something useful, if even slightly morose, to say. I had gumption. I had flare. I had time to be me.
These days, if I was asked to describe myself, coffee shop junky, or poet, or thoughtful girl with too much eyeliner wouldn't even make the list. Bigger titles have prevailed. Mother, wife, worker, friend, responsible adult. I've got a mortgage, two kids, and dog that needs to be let out right at 5 p.m. I don't have time to creatively loiter. I don't know about you, but I really miss letting my freak flag fly.
We need coffee shop time, my friends. For you, maybe it's outdoor time, or perfecting a recipe time, or trying something exciting and new time. It's the you before it got buried by too much responsibility. It's that girl, the one you smile at when you look back and remember the exact moment you figured out what finally floated your boat. Remember her? I sure do. She's intense, shiny, slightly off (in my case), and so full of possibilities. Embrace her, love her.....any way you can.
