Looking Up

This morning I showed up to a coffee shop down the road from my alma mater hoping to accomplish, what feels like, an infinite amount of tasks that have overwhelmed me with anxiety and left me frozen the last few weeks. The goal was to plan, organize, strategize, research, write, create, all necessary things that are needed to get done,  while all are things that also exhaust my time, mental energy and patience. I looked forward to listening to my favorite music and achieving a sense of satisfaction and pride with each task I crossed off the daunting “To Do” list.

But when I reached into my burdensome backpack and realized I bought the wrong charger for my headphones, I let out a sigh of frustration and thought about how I was sure the orange charger was for my headphones.

While mentally fighting with myself concerning orange charger vs blue charger, I realized Fridays provided weekly live music, and I arrived at the middle rush of lunch, meaning the only available spot was a high top table located  next to work meetings, rowdy friends who haven't seen each other in months, a young college student planning her own wedding in June and accompanying her, a very eager bridesmaid whos eagerness makes me anxious. 

Needless to say, I wished I had the blue charger with me.

I settled in and attempted to triage my mangled research paper, the neglected details of our wedding in less than a month and a half, or the forgotten application process needed for Graduate students at the Clinical level of social work, and so on. With a furrowed brow and my head buried in my not so well planned planner, I heard the familiar tune of Jambalaya coming from the right front of the shop.

 I looked up to see the most jovial old man, swaying to the rhythm as he picked his guitar, and sang with a western “twang” and occasional yodel similar to the way grandma Dixie used to sing it. Almost immediately I could feel a sense of understanding and jubilation in his voice.  Our eyes met and he gave me a playful wink. I felt my shoulders relax, and the corners of my mouth turn upward. 

I didn't feel like I was sitting alone anymore. 

I watched from a distance and admired the way he picked his guitar, in a way and with the skill that I always wished I had the time and talent to ingrain into my own musical abilities. The enjoyment he found in his tunes, became enjoyment I found in his all too recognizable song choices. He tapped his foot to the beat, as I nodded my head on the down stokes of each strum of the chorus.

As he continued to sing and skillfully strum his guitar, others put in the air pods,( because air pods have universal charger with most apple products (and yes, I lost my left air pod a year and a half ago)), or continued with conversations which seem a little too loud in social settings or screams of excitement/ long hugs when seeing that old friend from out of state visiting on holiday break.

The overwhelming lunch rush faded into the distance, the stress of adult life, and my frustration with my inability to remember what color charge goes to my headphones, all seemed small, for the first time in weeks. 

I sat in the coffee shop sharing a few moments of joy with a complete stranger, all because he found so much happiness in what he was doing.

And as I sipped on my sugar filled coffee I remembered all the times I had met at the table three spots over for a study session, or the way most of my friends worked at this coffee shop in college and how I would surprise them in the drive through windows during COVID, how we would stay up till the early morning, even though someone always had to open at 5am. I remember how much this busy, overly crowded coffee shop was loved by myself, and my friends during some pretty fun times, along with a few unnecessarily stressful finals weeks.  

I thought about how easy it has been to seat myself in high tops isolated on chairs stabilized by envy, embarrassment, frustration and fear.

But I really liked listening to Bill play his guitar, and I think the maid of honors idea for the bachelorette party sounds really fun, and I couldn’t believe that the friend from out of state finally broke up with that guy her friend never cared for, or how everyone carried so much excitement for their colleague who got a different position. 

Sometimes I forget. 
But when I remember to look up, I climb out of the high top and snag the booth.