If we were having coffee, we would both arrive at the same time, a different shop than we normally go to, this one out in the woods. There’s a large truck idling outside, and the noise and gas its belching clashes with the serenity of the trees around us. We’re not happy about that, but the gentleman barista brings us our cappuccino. I like this part, I say to you.
Cohiba and I just celebrated our second wedding anniversary, and last night, another couple, some friends of ours of our volunteered to watch Evelyn while we went out. We went for sushi and cigars, as we often did in our pre-baby days. The cigar bar was small, and it was crowded last night, but a man at a table with two extra seats offered to share with us. He was silent for most of the night, as Cohiba and I talked animatedly. When we began talking about politics, though, the man, Gary, got interested and joined us. It was a lot of fun and reminded me what I’ve really missed about doing that – not just good drinks and good cigars – but the interesting people we would meet.
If we were having coffee, I would confess that, despite the good conversation, this morning I’m hung over and Cohiba said he wasn’t feeling that good; that maybe we don’t miss going out like that as much as we did. Particularly in light of having the Wee One.
I’ve been reflecting on how I and my life have changed in the past year, specifically as it relates to my old job. I miss the work, I tell you, I miss working with homeless people. I told Cohiba that I thought I would want to go back to a position like I had, and he gave me the side eye. I was thinking about how impatient I was when I was there (burned out, really) and wonder if I would feel that way again, but I think the baby has graced me with a patience that I might be able to transfer to other people.
Mostly, though, I think I was doing that job with my eye out for “something better” or “something else,” and then I got annoyed when it never formulated. I think I have done a lot of things in my life with an eye out for “something better.” I never found “something better” in things I sought, like a PhD, but in things I wasn’t seeking: the Wee One, Seattle, even being a Rennie. Right now, I almost feel like I’m in my “something better” by not searching for it.
We can hear voices from kids playing on the rocks nearby. That and the wind in the trees – those are the sounds we like to hear.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you about a massage I got Monday night. I cashed in an IOU from Cohiba from before the Wee One was born, but specifically went to a spa that I knew had steam room/sauna and heated pools. Because it was a Monday night, it was much less crowded. My favorite part of the night was one of the heated pools that had water circulating near the bottom, but not a lot of agitation on top. I was so warm and supported in there. Then I let that part and went into another “relaxation room” that smelled of sandalwood. I laid back in a dark corner behind a sheet and felt so relaxed. Like I was meditating without trying to meditate.
I found “something better” by both searching for it.* I wonder if that ever happens to you, dear reader?