When the moment strikes
Do you ever get the feeling that where you are right now is just where you are meant to be, even if your plans for the day have been derailed? A feeling of contentment, made all the more blissful by the recognition that what you are doing now wouldn’t have been possible if the day had gone the way you had planned.
Earlier today I went to a diner in San Francisco. A local patron, who had frequenting the establishment for more than 20 years, told me that where I was is among few similar diners in the city. Both times I have been here, I have struck up conversations with people at the bar; all walks of life, together at a bar, enjoying breakfast.
This morning’s conversation took place with rain in the background. The diner felt cosy inside. The staff remembered that I had been there the day before and expressed curiosity about what brought me to the city.
I spoke with an older man who sat next to me at the bar, his seat reserved because he had been going there for so long. He told me of his travels around the world. Jordan, Israel, England. He shared photos. I remarked on the Roman-esque architecture of some buildings. I felt like I was just where I should be. He told me of his love of baseball, and his travels following the Giants as they play games across the United States. DC, Mississippi, SF.
I walked outside and braced rain, whose intensity I referred to as Scottish. California, I have been told, needs the rain after a period of drought. The rain battered down, soaking my trousers, and I had no plans for what I was going to do next. Ordinarily I like to let my feet take me places when travelling, but the rain was unrelenting.
I found a coffee shop nearby. A modern design, filed with people. A yellow “wet floor” sign welcoming me in. Water from the shoes of all that had been out in the rain coating the entrance. I hoped for a seat, and found an opening on a large table. The place where I am sitting right now. A girl sat nearby. As I glanced over I saw Atlassian Jira and Slack on her computer. Indeed, this is the galley of technology.
The line persists at a long length. Conversation happens at a medium volume in the background. The table at which I am sitting starts to clear, as the weather improves. More people enter, perhaps, I speculate, to do the same thing as I have done: take a break from the weather.
I write this post on my phone, staring at a line that has since grown longer. I revel in the unexpected, watching as people get on with their Mondays. My wrists tire from typing on my phone. I return to immerse myself in my surroundings.
A young child jingles keys with a smile on their face across the cafe. They, too, are immersed in the moment.
Tagged in San Francisco.
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