There’s Something About a Coffee Shop

When I was little, my mom and I used to have these mother/daughter days on weekends and she’d take me wherever I wanted to go (in reasonable vicinity  – Atlanta or the suburbs – and nowhere too expensive; she was a single mother and we often dug out quarters from the car seats for gas money – Six Flags was off limits). Being the strange kid that I was am, I would always ask to go to a coffee shop. The first time I did, she looked at me like a was a little weirdo for not saying “Discovery Zone’ or another normal-kid response (though we actually did go to DZ a few times and it was awesome – remember the roller slide??!). She eventually got use to it though, because every weekend when she’d ask, it was always the same thing: coffee shop.

I’m not sure what it was about them that I liked so much – maybe the comfortable and eclectic atmosphere that draws me in today? Or maybe I just really liked coffee? (Thanks to my grandma. She gave me some one morning with my breakfast and after that, I became the only first grader who took two cups of joe with her Fruit Loops.)

Anyway, we started a little tradition – on our mother/daughter days, we’d go check out new coffee shops. We’d go to small, cool-vibey ones in the city, and homey ones in the suburbs. Sometimes, we’d even go to Starbucks, but that’s before they were on every corner and spotting that green ladyhead logo was an exceptional thrill.

I even got to a point where that’s what I would tell people I wanted to be when I grew up – a coffee shop owner. I would imagine my little shop on a city street, the inside enclosed with exposed brick walls strung with Christmas lights. I’d picture the room filled with iron tables and comfy couches, and walls of bookshelves stocked with the best literature, old and new. I even drafted a business plan when I was twelve. Well, what a twelve-year-old thinks a business plan is, anyway. I came up with a name, drew the building, the people, the furniture, and made a cafe menu.

Maybe one day I’ll dig up my color penciled, construction paper plan and make it happen. (And hope there’s a piggy bank close by with a million dollar check from the tooth fairy.)

Til then, I’ll just keep coffee shop dreamin’.

 

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