Always a window seat

Always A Window Seat A CafĂŠ Series

By Sharon Lee Goodhand

Café, Perth, Australia wide-eyed fresh faced not long left home and yet So many miles I’d put between then and then café in Perth, Australia… my first cup of coffee… ever…. loaded with sugar from a bowl that had seen too many spoons… country girl I was… and timid not educated in the ways of this world… oh how big it was! my mind in overdrive as I tried to process city sights… bright sunshiny city not harsh like my vague childhood recollections of my Sydney birthplace… coffee was…. interesting first & last I’d thought at the time as I sat gazing out a window half devoted to cola adverts… … I pondered what taste cola represented… having never tried it … it seemed to me to have the look of sarsaparilla …I’d tried that once… too strong for my unsophisticated pallet… the city unfolded ‘round me growing bigger … oblivious to the older style café that huddle mid-way between yesterday and tomorrow… … it made me sad to think that one day the café would be gone pulled down in favour of storied offices and some bright and sunny sandwich bar that sold coffee in waxed cups

just like newer style roadhouses now did…

I drained my coffee … not so bad after all I’d thought back then, rejuvenated by caffeine and five sugars I ventured out… a new life awaited… beyond the doors of a café, Perth, Australia; early 1978 sharonlee©

Café, Melbourne, Australia sitting in a coffee shop in Melbourne Australia… … neon splashes mirrored in puddles…

I sat lost in thought - café almost empty this time of night.. city lights diffused by rain… … at the old Formica counter the greying owner tapped his pen a hollow sound that penetrated deep… … I longed for him to stop… but said nothing focused instead on the soothing drum of rain … mesmerised by circles within circles as the rain bounced into tar coloured puddles… counting coins … small piles of small denominations added up… in the end… to another cup and a toasted cheese sandwich… … broke until the bank opened in a time before plastic cards… shift workers from a nearby factory tumbled in… … they looked weary and carried with them the aroma of cereal or biscuits… huddled together they drank coffee and joked with the grey-haired barista owner… familiar scene re-enacted every night… … I stood to go shouldering an over-large pack portable radio dangling from limp arm…

I paused at the door … rain plummeted …. thrashing the pavement ricocheting up to rain back down…

I sighed…

hey lov… you at the door I looked over my shoulder… not sure… coffee on the house lov ? he smiled my smile reflected heartfelt relief … thanks… … vulnerability – - his warm & grandfatherly… old blue eyes now fading to grey, twinkled as he waved me back to the window table… no older then my granddaughter, he sighed, she’s out there somewhere…. somewhere… sadness clouded his face as he poured coffee I thanked him softly and turned to gaze at a night filled with rain in a café, Melbourne, Australia; late 1978. sharonlee© 6/10/11

Café, Sydney, Australia window-seat …always a window-seat… coffee shop, Sydney, Australia… a sea of faces streaming past outside behind me a low murmur of voices lunch-time crowd surging in regular as clock-work… scratchy radio announcing a hot day in the city leave your brollies at home folks and he laughed at his own lame joke…

I tried to cross my legs… but couldn’t pregnant belly a cumbersome monstrosity the baby moved… a girl… I just knew it… no you’re not, I whispered… not a monstrosity but what am I ‘spose to do… I’m trapped in this city we’re both trapped in this city… … somewhere a child wailed as if in response to my thoughts …you & me both kid, I mumbled softly with twisted humour - it was a big city to be alone in… intercity busses blocked the view of intercity buildings cranes to the left erecting still more… a siren screamed blur of police cars jetting past like smeared ribbons of blue & white pedestrians jumping clear before swelling to fill the crossing as if nothing happened… … but something had happened somewhere… another pile-up another homeless dead in a back street… another junkie overdosed in an abandoned squat… the baby moved again mesmerised I watched a vaguely foot shaped lump protrude

from my soft young flesh… draining my cup I turned again to gaze at foreign city scenes and wondered just how I came to be in this place…. and where did I go from here - a window-seat view of the world …always a window-seat… café , Sydney, Australia; 1980. sharonlee© 6/10/11

Café , Airlie Beach, Australia coffee floating in fragrant clouds swirling between me & a window with a view a coffee shop Airlie Beach, Australia… …strangest sense of déjà vu other windows… other towns coffee – good…bad… sublime ….

I gaze at the ocean scene distant mountains islands floating in tropical waves… palm trees standing coast-watch lined the grass that bordered the sand… behind me somewhere murmured appreciation damn good coffee….

I smiled, yes it was, I thought… …soft and gentle moments drifted back to me… coffee shops along life’s highway… … beyond the window sidewalk tables filled with jostling movement… tourists in summer hats and winter socks … a young couple barely 20… with backpacks and local maps – - fresh-faced… bright eyed so full of bubbling adventure… untraveled horizons reflected in their youth…

I sat and gazed… the sea … the sand rippling palms … seagulls… unafraid wait for fallen scraps…

I felt my age understood the softness of errant thoughts that niggled at heart & soul… … and I smiled – - it has been a good life despite those raw moments when even coffee offered no comfort…

I am me… strong… wise… lived in… comfortable with my edges and curves… at ease with my thoughts and flaws… proud of the woman I have become… window seat… fragrant coffee a café in Airlie Beach, Australia; 2011. sharonlee© 6-Oct-11

Air of Brewed Coffee Simplistic pleasures- a coffee shop of one’s own where your face is known and preferences remember’d… … the coffee always tastes so right and yet still delights you with its flavour-aroma mingles with old wood and décor aged in air… a petite shortbread resting in collector spoon tranquillity soothes the inner frenzy thoughts melting into coffee-flavoured moments… *

On Clouds of Coffee My thoughts drift on aromatic waves of morning coffee rising with the steam… clouds float in before my silently watching eyes… a damp grey ambience permeates the day curling around my inner thoughts like shadows of a half remembered dream… thoughts I share with no one in the absence of a mind and heart that listens with intent to the echoes behind my words…

On Clouds of Coffee My thoughts drift on aromatic waves of morning coffee rising with the steam… clouds float in before my silently watching eyes… a damp grey ambience permeates the day curling around my inner thoughts like shadows of a half remembered dream… thoughts I share with no one in the absence of a mind and heart that listens with intent to the echoes behind my words…

4 AM 4 am a sense of wakefulness invades my sleep… tossing restlessly I scrunch down into feathered doona willing oblivion to return but no… a passing thought brings to mind arms that no longer cradle me in soft sighs of comfort… … I give up in the end and rise from sleep-rumpled bed drifting to the darkened window …the world sleeps at least the part that I can see seems silenced cloaked in darkness… no traffic rumbles on the distant highway no sign of human existence the night is still unmoving and unmoveable no stars to keep me company… …padding in soft socks through my home I make coffee quietly as if reluctant to disturb the sleeping ..no one here to hear me still my actions are purposely muffled… … returning to the window

I see nothing but shadow-trees and ghostly streetlights… coffee hot & strong & sweet I smoke searching the net for something … someone contact…

I chat with a stranger half way round the world who sits in a cyber cafe … while I sit in my dim silent apartment and wait for the birth of a new day…

Unseen rain, soft & light played with the silent night morning still slept in glistening shadows as my thoughts played with my inner dreams… silver slivers shimmering as predawn luminescence softened sable edges night merging into day… rain crystallised against sombre shades… my thoughts wandered as thoughts are known to do in hours as silent and muted as this… floating out over the convoluted shadows that hid the harsher contours of community coexistence… …I watched the dawn twilight searching for that point in time where night gives way to day brooding over other moments wondering when and how I lost them…

I dissected other points in time trying to find the diamond-sharp instant that transforms one intersecting moment into another… coffee rich and fragrant warm hands & heart as dawn-glow finally softened the sky the rain stopped silence, deep and profound encircled me in an undemanding embrace a cold moist breeze chilled unseen tears

as my world woke to a cloud filled day….

Light of a Single Candle I sit by candle light ..the night is late and dark no moon…no stars street lights hazy within persistent rain… … cold coffee my only friend in the end when all color has been leached from the day… the single candle illuminates my page and a small corner of the room… shadows in the far reaches crowd in as if in need of company on this damp dark night… my thoughts have somewhat mellowed … I chatted with a friend in nights softened gloom who spoke with gentle tone of life and love and soul’s unease… spoke of one’s inability to change what was not in their power to change… of acceptance and nurturing and moving on…

I soaked in these words of wisdom …thinking long and deep about life and love and hopes and dreams… the extremes of human nature the fragilities of the human condition… and as the single candle burned low confident of its role and purpose I pondered on my own….

Coffee-Colored Reflections there are times... midnights passing with no sleep rain-filled days where my thoughts meander throu the years silent sunlit moments that catch me in a patch of warmth... random times when reflections tumble in on recollection when sepia memories tap at the core of my bruised spirit... times when I feel uplifted by a birds graceful flight by the moon's passage through the night... there are times when my feet long to walk my eyes long to see my hands long to touch my body longs to feel another body... times where I am content nay...more than content to be alone to gaze in silent reflection at the never-ending expanse of sky the trees...the rain... content to be alone... times when a strong coffee is my only friend when life seems too short or to have no end... times when the silence is too loud Or when sound seems forgotten to my ears times when I wonder on too many whys and ponder too many why nots there are times I remember well and those I have forgot... there are times when I am soothed by the beauty of the world or burdened by global strife... these times... these times are called life;

Prompted By The Rain what is it about the rain that mellows my spirit... what unseen force does it wield that brings forth convoluted recollections that move with slow-motion deliberation prompting me to stop and gaze lost in thoughtful musings... why do I feel secure...comfortable...safe at home when the rain tumbles from the sky and thunder rumbles from unseen heights... why do I find the rain so soothing so alluring...so tempting content to let my thoughts wander through the otherworldly realm of my mind... copious cups of coffee my only demand as I let my inner thoughts hold sway drifting through a rainy day drifting to the melody of rain on the old tin roof content beyond all measure to just sit... what is it about the rain that mellows my spirit...