Life lessons at a Coffee Shop

I think one of the most comforting sounds in the world is the sound of coffee beans being ground. I love to hear the harsh sound clash against the poppy music playing in local coffee shops. In an effort to get some homework done, as many college students do, I go to my local coffee shop after class. Always the same place, and always hoping that my favorite table is open. I came in one late afternoon and the room was cold. It smelled like fresh ground coffee and drying paint just like it always did. The music was loud and everyone talked as if they were trying to respect the artist who was singing, even though it was only a playlist. It was mid-afternoon, and students were scattered across the large room with their eyes glued to their laptops. I made my way to a communal table and ended up next to three women and a young girl. I was listening to their conversation and it flowed like a stream. It was consistent and filled with trust.

“My mom uses my address to keep her residency in Oklahoma,” said the woman with the low pony. In a tone so casual, I was almost startling. Her friends laughed and joked with her about the relatability of her situation. It was supportive and understanding. The little girl tried to sit still but it only lasted so long.

“Momma,” said the young little girl.

“What baby,” said the woman with dark hair. Then their voices grew too quiet to hear. The little girl began a lighthearted conversation with the woman with the dark hair, and the other two women had their own conversation. All three of these women were weaving in and out of conversations with each either, soothing the little girl, and seeming to have a relaxing conversation. As the three women dove deep into a conversation about all the deals they got the previous weekend, the little girl began to walk around to different people in the shop.

“Evie leave those girls alone,” said the woman in the tank top.

“She’s ok,” said a girl from the group of college students behind me. As the little girl began to walk away, she turned around to watch the women she was sitting with. They were jovial and laughing all together. The little girl watched for a couple of moments before moving on to play her tablet at another table. She was observing their movements and learning more about the environment around her. Kids usually scare me more than comfort me, but this girl was so curious and sweet I was not scared at all. Soon the little girl came back to the table and began to divert her eyes to the paint sets lined up against the wall.

“She is wanting to P-A-I-N-T,” said the women in the tank top.

“I want to paint,” said the little girl not even a second later. I laughed to myself about the situation. The women in the tank top knew exactly what the little girl wanted even before she said a word. The women laughed together about the situation and moved along without addressing the little girls wants. Soon the conversation changed to one of the women talking about her dream in college.

“I wanted to be a mountain person,” said the woman with the low pony. As soon as the woman with the low pony said it, the women burst out laughing.

“And then I became an accountant… I would have much more money if I went to Branson,” said the woman with the low pony. It may have just been me, but the room seemed colder. There was regret in her voice. It was not extremely noticeable, but it was noticeable. At that moment something struck within me. A resolve, a charge, a life long motto - don’t let regret take hold of your life. These women were having a great time, and right before they left regret entered the conversation. It was subtle yet powerful. The woman with the low pony may never know how impactful one sentence she said was, but I will remember. I will remember the moment she said, “I should have gone to Branson.” I will remember the tone of her voice and the regret it carried. Life is short, and I never want to have an “I should have gone to Branson” moment creep into my conversation when I am older. I want to be sitting at my local coffee shop listening to the fresh coffee being ground without regret. From one small conversation in a coffee shop I learned just how long regret can haunt a person, and how deeply I never want to feel that pain.