Mothers Day

8:30 a.m.

The clouds flow like coffee steam. I decided to take the older road today. Mornings have a sort of comforting sense to them, I like it this way.

Following the hostess, I'm seated at a table. This cafe sits in an older part of the city, I think of it as the back of the city, the side that lays on the outskirts of the country hill sides. To get here you have to pass lushes green forest hills with winding rivers flowing through the feet of them. Once here, the buildings are shorter and the taller ones are perfectly out of view.

Soothing jazz plays in the background of this cafe, my coffee appears before me. I didn't even notice my waiter come by. How is this possible? Maybe I was too focused on the red piano sitting in front of me, or maybe it's the litter of waiters flowing around me, serving other tables, maybe it's the collage of beautifully vibrantly colored bottles of assorted liquors. What ever it was, It's good to see a cup of coffee. I don't think I'm quite awake yet.

I remember it's mothers day, my grandmother sits on my left and my mother at my right. The conversations are too small, no one quite knows what to say so, they make it up as they go along. I give little input. I'm in my own world. A thought came. Maybe I could learn a little piano, my girlfriend has always told me I have the hands of a pianist. One song, one song is all I'd need. "Cocktail Lounge" by Dick Walter, it's a sort of jazz piece that amuses me but, could impress others. I'd like to ask the restaurant if I could play just one song, I'd play it and everyone would be surprised I know how to play at all. I'd bow in the small clamor, then sit back down at my table. I think I'll do that, yeah, I'll secretly learn one song and that's all I would need.

My second cup of coffee has arrived, the only reason I notice is because my mug is now full, darker than before, absent of my two creamers. My mother points out my spoon is still in my mug (as it came that way), so I take it out and place it on her small side plate. Behind my mother, I notice a wall of cakes, I'm not particularly fond of cakes, but it's a nice display. 

I order something simple, something I know I will like. I know there's many other options but, I'm craving a simpler palate. I order an American classic, three scrambled eggs, ham, bacon, sausage and potato wedges. It is enough. I could only bare to stomach half of it. I'll come back here, I thought, maybe tomorrow or the next day but, one thing I knew, I'd be back soon. How could I forget this part of towns existence? How long has it been?

Back down that old road that follows the river, I get a call from my sister. I told her, I don't think I know this place. She told me I did, I did in fact know this place, then proceeds to do a fairly accurate impression of the sound this road makes as you ride along it. An almost muted hum, soothing, unlike the sounds that a highway makes, different material. How peculiar, remembering the sound of a road. I don't know any other people who do that, besides my brother and sister. Of course my brother is the founder of that idea, my sister merely recognized it and adapted it, she's curious that way. I like that about my siblings.

2:30 p.m.

Opening the door to a second story lounge of a cafe, a wave of music hit me like a sheet of soft linen. "Take Five" was playing down below by a local band. I took my seat in front of the ledge, covered in vines and tree leaves. A single bird chirped perfectly timed with the music ever so often, I didn't mind, not one bit. A cool breeze blew through the air. My girlfriend placed a small drink of mimosa next to me. She told me I could have some. I took a sip and faded away into the music. Such a lively place, long lost to a younger, little me. It's good being back in a place once thought forgotten. Behind me through the glass, people sit and study, drink their drinks. Below, they shop through a well illustrated store, beyond that a cooking class takes place. I would like to be a part of that but, that's for another day. Here I sit, taking in a lovely day, brilliantly crafted, elegant as the day should be.