Lunch in the Cafe

I sit in the café, eating. Although I am here to write, I am very hungry. The food is undeniably appealing. I attack my warm soft bagel and savor the cold contrast of the rich butter. The chicken tortilla soup has three kinds of beans in it. It is hearty and satisfyingly healthy. Minus the chicken, it would be a great veggie meal.

I am at one of my favorite tables, a small round dark wooden one, like the tables at Parisian sidewalk cafes. From this corner, I see the whole café and out the window.

I eat and watch the view. The roofs of the Victorian homes, the civic buildings, the blue sky above breeze-kissed trees. Cars drive by.

I sit and I eat. Soon I will write. For now, I am simply here.

This is what I am mainly doing today. Simply being wherever I am.

Today I am asking the question, Where? and finding the answer, Here.

At the table facing me, a brown-haired young man in a green T-shirt highlights a textbook. Organic Chemistry. An open notebook, a huge calculator, and a study guide wait before him. He looks vaguely anxious, a bit tired and grizzled. He chomps his trail mix with intensity.

I think that I miss learning. There is such simplicity to being the student. There is structure. You have the book, you have class lectures, you have the syllabus. You know your destination and it is up to you to take the information in and make it your own.

Of course, I am still learning. I am a student always, as we all are. Today has been about gentle, compassionate study.

However, it was nice to have the syllabus.