This past weekend, we sat in a hip coffee shop in NYC - my latte and my daughter's matcha both served in beautiful handle-less ceramic mugs with a textured exterior, perfect for holding as we sat quietly. We shared a piece of banana bread with carob chips; she let me have the last bite. She was tired - our bedroom was above a busy-all-night-long Brooklyn intersection, and she was stuck sharing a bed with me, used to sleeping alone (even though I tried to sleep at the edge, she missed her middle of the bed comforts). I was grateful that a few sips into the matcha, her edges smoothed out and we talked about our favorite ways to track our to do lists, the joys of libraries, and summer plans. The independent bookstore next door was supposed to open at 11:00, but the door was still locked when we showed up at 11:15; disappointing, but we peeked in the windows and will keep it on the list for our next visit to the big city.
Lisa, what a lovely slice. I like how much we learn about your relationship from this small interaction: "she let me have the last bite." This phrase made me smile: "she missed her middle of the bed comforts."
ReplyDeleteMuch like a visit to New York, you packed a lot into a short slice! I love how you wove this story together in a few powerful sentences.
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