Would you like your scone warmed up? asked the barista as I placed my order in the bookstore cafe. I was touched by the question. I am used to cafes asking questions about the preferences of an order – “would you like that with oat milk?”, “what size of coffee would you like?” – but this time felt different.
I was then asked what jam I would like. The cafe had blackcurrant jam, my favourite. I thought back to the times when I used to visit cafes with my grandparents. When I was old enough to be excited about eating scones, I always reveled in the prospect of there being blackcurrant jam. Today there was.
I had been having a difficult week. I have found strength in moments such as the one in the cafe when I found delight in the question about warming up my scone and the blackcurrant jam on offer. In these moments, I find joy and peace and excitement. I think about the wonder of humanity and what we can do.
—
On my way to the bookstore that day, I walked through Edinburgh’s Old Town, a place where the buildings inspire awe. It is hard not to be captivated by the architecture. The elegant spires. The colour of the independent shops. The height of the buildings.
As I was admiring the buildings around me, I noticed a couple sitting on a stone staircase, slightly out of the way of the bustle of the street. I wrote in my journal that the stairs were “fabled.” I know of no stories related to them, but I think I was taken away by the poetry of the historical town in which I was surrounded.
The couple gazed at each other with a loving tenderness. The man caressed his partner’s right cheek.
A few minutes walk away from the desks of several of Scotland’s most famous poets and Romantic writers, the couple were in their own world.
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The sun is shining and the wind is low. A young lady sits on the ground at a quiet train platform with a book in hand. She is seemingly unbothered by the occasional gust of wind that moves the pages. It seems like she is immersed in the forest of a good story.
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Yesterday I was on a train, going back home. The train was the busiest I have seen. I was surrounded by people. It was rush hour. Around, there were families, people returning home from the office – many travellers. As more people got on the train, I struck up a conversation with a few of the people around me. We spoke about how they should run more trains. We noted that the train company probably wouldn’t listen to the complaint.
We weren’t frustrated. I think we all enjoyed the conversation – myself, the old lady, the young man, and the others that participated from time to time. Our chat lasted several minutes, on and off.
I thought about the joy of conversation as a means of passing the time. The journey could have been silent, with us all eager to get seats. Instead, we spoke and laughed as we waited for the first stop where many people would disembark.
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“I am grateful for the awkwardness of having a crush on someone. I feel alive.”, I wrote in my journal after reflecting on walking past the coffee shop where she works.
—
On a dark navy blue jacket, written in white text, were the words “Life is what you make it”. I smiled at this message.
