Sparrows At My Feet
I’ve made it to the coffee shop. I’d scheduled it in for today. It’s been a demanding couple of days and I’d realized this morning that I needed to prioritize some simple pleasure.
It feels cozy and welcoming as I step inside. It’s the warm lighting, the murmur of chatter, the familiar faces. I’ve got my notebook, a medley of pens and some books that I feel no pressure to finish in my orange backpack.
A quick glance tells me a spot at my favourite table is free. Perfect, this is what I need. Soon I’ll be sipping on deliciously strong coffee as I soak up the atmosphere. Bonus—Rachel is working and she always gives me the rounded cup that fits so perfectly in my hand.
But as I’m handing over my toonie and loonie, I see someone out of the corner of my eye. Ugh.
‘Actually, I’ll take that to go,’ I say begrudgingly.
I’ve seen someone, sitting at my table, whom I’d experienced as unkind and unreasonable over a prolonged period of time—a chapter that I’d worked so hard to close. But now, here they are in my coffee shop! And today of all days.
I brace myself as I wait for my americano. I scan the pages of The Toronto Star, but I couldn't tell you if the words are written in English. The newspaper might be upside down, for all I know. My chest is tight and I am grateful that no one is trying to strike up a conversation. I feel awkward, uneasy.
But I am not panicked, not triggered.This is huge and I notice it even in the moment. I’ve done a lot of work. Anger was once a serious trigger for my anxiety. But things have changed. My ego doesn’t seem too interested in this turn of events. Even in this moment, I know it’s just a moment. Very soon, I’ll be away from this person and able to move on. Ha. This is massive growth for me.
Coffee in hand, I leave, quickly. It’s then that anger starts tapping on my shoulder. Ego says, Well, where are you supposed to go now? That’s YOUR coffee shop in YOUR neighbourhood. And now you’re stuck walking around with this coffee when all you wanted was to chill out at your favourite spot. Is that too much to ask?
I make it to the park. There’s a bench in the sun facing the playground. I open my notebook. Anxiety is here. Spilled coffee tells me my hands are shaky. ‘Fuck you’, I write. I’m about to dive into a good rant.
The rant would be about the person, about all the stuff they put me through, some of it factual. It would likely morph into other struggles I was facing during that same time. I’m not even aware that my heels are teetering on the edge of the rabbit hole.
And then the sun tells me to close my eyes. It’s so warm on my face and I am reminded that I love the sensation of seeing orange behind my eyelids. And then it’s all okay and I’ll tell you why.
Because I am back to being a lake. There’s a thunderstorm raging at the surface but all I have to do is stay steady at the bottom for the rocks and plants and fish. My job is to make sure that the storm above doesn’t cause havoc for the lake’s very existence.
Let the unexpected storm rage on. Let a trigger sit in my coffee shop.
And that’s when I hear chatter. I open my eyes. She’s about two and a half feet tall and she’s talking away to herself as she works so very hard to push a swing. And while she works she is the image of contentment. And then I see her mother, a good 10 metres away letting this unfold. Mama knows her daughter is just fine and stays back. I watch this mini diligently climb playground steps holding ever so carefully onto the railing, still chatting merrily to herself. Mama waves when she looks her way. Ah, that’s good stuff.
And then orange behind my eyelids.
And then I hear someone working out at the chin up bars. Without an audience. Just because. He pants so hard when he’s done and takes many deep breaths before he is able to fully stand. We smile at each other as he chugs from a huge bottle of water.
Orange behind my eyelids.
Sparrows come very close to my still feet. I am struck that they can turn their heads 180 degrees though their plumage entirely conceals a neck of any kind. Noticing sparrows tells me that I am okay. I can leave this bench now and go about my day.
Phew, that was a close one.