One of my favorite comforts when I come home is grabbing late night cups of coffee with my best friends at a little diner that takes one minute to drive to from my house.
There is nothing too remarkable about it - the grilled cheese is lathered in butter just like at any other diner in the nation, the coffee is watered down and the seats are made of that sort of plastic your legs stick to.
There is nothing too remarkable about it, but I treasure that place, where I share my life and lots of laughs at the juke box selections (there is a mini one on every table) with people who have known me since my lip-gloss-crazy-boy-obsessed-snotty-middle-school days through every hope and fear and lesson and joy I've experienced in college.
Life should be about sitting in a tiny diner with the sound of pancakes sizzling behind the counter and dots of traffic lights streaming in the windows and a mug of coffee growing cold in your fingers and sharing yourself with someone else. It should be about choosing to remain there, in places filled with late night conversations and the smell of bacon grease where you can just let people know you, like really know you. And it should be about giving all the time in the world to just sitting and listening.
Because those things, well, they are pretty remarkable.
0 comments:
Post a Comment