A Second Cup of Coffee

If we were having coffee right now I would ask you how your life has been since we last met. You would tell me of a difficult situation you were dealing with, not knowing how to handle it, when without warning it was resolved to the benefit of all concerned.

If we were having tea right now…because you prefer it to coffee…I would tell you how much a recent lunch with friends meant to me…how I still smile thinking of the camaraderie and affection that was more nourishing than the delicious food.

If we were having coffee right now you would share with me how lonely you are after the passing of your loved one…how the days follow each other in meaningless order and the nights hold nothing but darkness and tears.

If we were having coffee right now I would reach across the table and hold your hand as you struggle to contain your grief. And I would say, “Don’t contain it, let it find its way where it will and be thankful you are alive enough to feel it.” And I would feel your pain.

If we were having coffee right now you would listen while I ranted on one of┬ámy pet peeves, like the supermarkets putting a sale price on a display of mixed merchandise, from which you choose an item you’re delighted to find at a reduced price until you get to the cashier and find out what you chose wasn’t part of the sale…grrr.

If we were having coffee right now you would tell me again that you need more faith, and I would tell you that God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life…you can believe that.

If we were having coffee right now…or tea because you prefer it to coffee…we would have enjoyed our time together enough to say, “Let’s do this again soon.”

Until then, may all your problems be resolved, may all your friendships be meaningful, may your times of grief have longer intervals, and for my part…thanks for listening. My load is lighter right now because we had coffee together…or tea, because you prefer it.



A Letter to the Me I Used to Be

Dear You:

By “you” I mean the me I used to be. I miss you…I mean, really miss you. I miss your energy, stamina, strength. I miss the loves you shared and what those loves encompassed; caring, sharing, camaraderie, hugging, kissing, loving, walking, talking; in fact, just being together.

Do you remember those wonderful years of dancing, romancing, cottaging, boating, traveling…remember breakfast in bed? Of course you do or this letter would not be taking shape.

The years of motherhood and entrepreneurship were so time consuming and fulfilling…so satisfying and all encompassing.

The me I used to be no longer exists…instead, another me has emerged; quieter, more patient, slower in movement and thought; still gregarious but less so; more spiritual, maybe more thoughtful; still have the love, but no one to share it with.

And so, it is with fond remembrance that I write to you, to tell you that I appreciate all that you were, and will never really say goodbye to…

The Me I Used To Be