Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

Air plant

These are observations and thoughts from two weekday mornings this week at a chain coffee shop.

It gets busier the longer that I’m here. Today, I got here at around 7:30 and it is almost 9:30. I will leave soon. I’m getting tired of sitting, of thinking, of being around people. The smell of bacon is also becoming overwhelming.

The other day an older couple sat by the window. His back was to me, but I watched her carefully spread jam on her bagel while she talked to an employee. I missed the question, but it must have been something like, “How are you today?” since I heard her respond, “The same as always, here for breakfast.” Then the staff member continued talking and the woman continued jam spreading, barely nodding in response. Maybe she’s tired of this daily conversation. But isn’t the point of coming here to have a conversation with someone other than her husband—or to have a conversation, since I haven’t seen her and her husband interact. Or maybe it’s the employee’s chance to have a conversation beyond order-taking.

Unsurprisingly, the couple is back today. They are sitting in a booth that is too far from me to observe them. He is wearing an orange shirt and shorts. I am pleased with his fashion choice; perhaps he is not as lost as he seemed the other day.  

Last week my mother and I had lunch two days in a row in a restaurant in this same shopping center. On our second day, we saw a few people who had been there the previous day. One pair, an elderly woman, still dyeing her hair red, and her caregiver, sat opposite me, so I could see how bored they both seemed. They were there to get out, for a break in the monotony of the days. It was part of their routine. I wonder what boredom and routine do to a person.

One of the women in our group the second day we ate there said that she had also been there the previous day, and that she goes there frequently and has for a long time. She didn’t sound bored with being there so much, even though she said that she only switches between two different orders each time she eats there. She was enthusiastic when she greeted our waitress, joking about seeing her so soon. I guess boredom is the problem, not routine. 

In South Florida, there are a lot of retirees, but there are also lots of people living their lives, at all stages. Earlier this morning there were five middle-aged men having some kind of gathering. They ending their conversation with bowed heads, so maybe it was a weekly or daily prayer or bible group. Over the years in coffee shops, I have noted morning prayer groups, always men, never women. I could go into a discussion about women needing to do things at home, but I’m just going to acknowledge their gathering, thinking that their time together helps them and their relationships back at home.

There is a group of four women and a toddler sitting around the big table in the middle of the space. Their attention goes from the child back to their conversation. A white-haired woman sitting nearby with her husband waves to the child and plays peekaboo with him as the women talk. After a little while, she gets up and speaks to someone in a booth. Perhaps they are also regulars, people connecting for a moment. If I keep coming here (and the other coffee shop), I can be a regular, knowingly nodding to others, being a part of a community. Such a thin bond, but maybe it will lead to conversations. I haven’t made any friends down here, yet.

It is a weekday morning and I am only now realizing that it is relatively quiet and calm: there are no school-age children here. When I was flying to see my daughters recently, I noticed this as I sat waiting for a flight to be called and then as I took my seat, thrilled by the realization and its impact on the flight. The atmosphere is so different when there aren’t young children around; children and parents and their anxiety hovering over us all. It is nice to be able to fly and be out and about when children are in school. Such a thing for a former teacher to say.   

At a table near mine an older man and a couple around my age are reconnecting. The older man said that he was recently hospitalized. The other man said that he recently retired. Quite the update. When the older man asked his friend what he’s doing now that he’s retired, he quickly responded, “golfing.” He then said that yesterday he went on a ten-mile bike ride. His wife commented that he had to lay down for hours after that. Was that a dig or was she acknowledging that he’s committed to staying healthy? I’m going to think that she was being supportive because no one wants to start retirement being mocked by the person you’re going to spend most of your time with.

The men talked about how a group they used to belong to has fallen apart. I wonder if it was a bible study group. Suddenly, as they talked about how busy and built up the area has been getting, the recently retired man said and repeated a few times, “Socialism at its best.” Seems more like capitalism to me, but he can have his opinion. It seemed that this was his way to begin expressing his thoughts on the state of the nation: his discontent with the current administration and his admiration for the previous guy. He and his wife segued into the ridiculousness of vaccine mandates. Their friend didn’t respond. Maybe statements like these led to their group disintegrating. Their points made, they returned to talking about their plans for the day and then they left.

With them gone, I can hear that the women behind me are talking about testing scores and the education classes they’re taking. Something I don’t want to think about, so I tune them out.  

It seems more upbeat here today, a Wednesday, than Monday when I was here last.

Now, I see another group of four sitting together, behind where the reconnected group had been. They seem to be a family; similar faces and gestures. They are enjoying their breakfast together.

Groups of people speaking in English and Spanish. I can just imagine how the couple that just left feels about that. How hard it must be to always be upset. Wouldn’t acceptance be easier than the “it’s all bulls---t” they said about the hordes of immigrants invading the country?

Now that the group with the toddler left, the couple I noticed today and last time, quickly sat at the big table in the middle with three other people. Perhaps I was wrong about her. Perhaps she only wants to talk to the people she wants to, when she wants to. Perhaps, too, my assumptions and conjectures say more about me than the people I observe.

Woman sitting alone at a booth focusing on her laptop. She’s drinking from a mug brought from home. Maybe she likes to make herself comfortable wherever she goes. Maybe she doesn’t like the feel of a paper cup or how wasteful it is. Maybe she doesn’t like drinking from a metal travel mug, but doesn’t want to be wasteful. She’s been here a while. I bet she hasn’t been distracted, googling jobs, and restaurants, and library hours, and reading emails.