I came here to write.
Not because it’s the only place I could come, although in this small town it kinda is. Today it’s a happy mix of foreign & familiar. The buzz of the espresso machine & warmth from the flow of people helps me push aside my to do list & find mental notes of remarkable moments from previous weeks. Noteworthy not for their peculiarity, but more likely for their humanity. Their everyday-ness.
Sylvia my trusty lilac steed is chained up outside. She’d probably still be there at the end of the day had I casually propped her up against the glass walls. I chain the wheels & the frame & the helmet around a pole anyway. It took me less than 3 minutes to push her away from the patio, down familiar streets, around slow corners & up to the bakery door. Waving at big families choosing a morning walk to the store over their Volvo busses, & greeting local shop owners setting out trinkets on the pavement. The unbearable heavy heat I’ve known on these streets has given way to grey skies & crisp air. I remember why autumn is my favourite.
Usually when I’m at the bakery, I’m the one standing behind the counter armed with an apron & attentiveness. Listening for the tinkle of the bell as someone else leaves or arrives. Smiling at new families & familiar faces as they are waiting for coffee & choosing pies, ordering sandies & sangers. I’m watching for tables empty of people but full of plates & keeping an eye on fridges of donuts & slice.
In the busy morning shifts I rattle off questions by wrote – Any sugars? Any sauce? Anything else? Patient with out-of-towners admiring country decor while they find something familiar on the menu. Grateful for familiar faces who won’t mind waiting.
Quiet afternoon hours I watch members of the bakery family curled up in corner couches; thinking, connecting, laughing, resting, working. I marvel at the alcove in my heart that this family has taken residence in so quickly. Grateful for the wide armed acceptance, affection & honour that a few brave people can offer. Amazed at how a heart can change, & at the beauty in the unexpected.
I came here to write; now I close my laptop & scrape back my hair. Tie on an apron & stack some dishes – it’s time to work.
Reading this just made my day. Your writing is so crisp. So clear. So full of vivid imagery. I love it! I just want to be in the bakery with you; to be one of those people ‘curled up in the corner couches’ connecting.
Ah you write so well Tessa, it’s like reading one of my favourite books xx
Tessa, this sounds like the “beginning of a great novel” (hahaha blah). But seriously, your writing gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling when I read it; and it makes me miss you (and I hope you do write a great novel). Most of all, your writing makes me think, “Wow! Words are truly beautiful things…” #sigh