Tonight I went to Starbucks to write. I ordered an unsweetened lemonade pomegranate tea. It sounded like a chipper drink.
“So, you’re changing it up a bit?” asked one of the baristas who was working in the drive-through. He’s accustomed to my regular order–the uneventful decaf coffee with cream.
Out of interest, he then asked how my book was going. I must have mentioned it in passing the last time was here.
The cashier who was helping me took note and asked, “You’re writing a book?”
I smiled and said, “Yes.” Waiting for what comes next.
My predication followed as he asked what the book was about. I started my two minute commercial explaining how Shawn died in the line of duty, mentioning they may be familiar with the highway memorial signs in honor of my late husband. His head nodded telling me he was now connecting the details.
By the time I finished my summary another employee was inching towards the counter to hear the conversation. She commented through dark rimmed glasses, her expression impressed as she noted that the accident hadn’t happened that long ago, especially when considering writing a book. The three co-workers took turns asking me question after question, intrigued with my story.
Taking my tea, the worker who was most familiar with my numerous stops to this coffee shop turned with a hesitated glance.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying this,” he finally started. “But, there is a change in you from when you first started visiting us.”
I laughed and said, “That’s a good sign.”
The cashier added, “Tell us when the book is out. I love to read and want to read it.”
I nodded, turning to leave and said, “Oh, I will. I'm sure I'll be back here many more times."
