Empty-Full

Half and Half - Sunday Bookstore Pondering


The latte was good, made with half and half per my request. . . none of that thin, watered down stuff "called milk" for me. Life's too short at this point to waste taste buds on faux milk. The homemade chocolate chip cookie was equally good.

What's left now is a memory – a very cold and breezy Sunday afternoon and me huddled up in a bookstore overlooking the square. The music in there was way too loud for actual bookstore hanging out and the pondering and life's little awakenings that should take place. . . or maybe I am too distracted, easily. . . but no! . . . wait a minute . . . being followed around by people breathing down my neck, making me too full of their presence – that's distracting! People on my heels, over my shoulder, in my ear – I just don't need that.

I want to be empty enough of them so that I can find and feel what it is that I'm looking for. And I am always looking for something. A word. A phrase. A color. A shape. A shadow. A cloud. A scent. A sound. Those things fill me. But yesterday, they were not to be found – in the cup, the saucer, or the bookstore.