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Using Our Words

Slice-of-life stories about parenthood

A Cup of Soul

A Cup of Soul

April 7, 2014 by Amy, Using Our Words 9 Comments

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Today I walked up to the counter, a sincere smile on my face and enthusiasm behind my voice.

“Hey there.” When you’ve frequent the place for years, you can be casual like that, you know? “Do you have any more of those egg white sandwiches?”

“The turkey bacon kind?” He sifted through the fridge, then held up what I was looking for.

“Yep. Ah, oh good, I’ll have one of those. And a tall skinny vanilla latte, please.”

I handed over my Starbucks Gold Card and said, “I have another free one on there.” There are rewards to working a couple days a week in a coffee shop, after all.

The barista looked at my card, then turned to his buddy and said, “I was right! Amy.” Then he turned back to me, “We can never remember your name. Everybody else’s, but never yours. But today I was right, I was going to guess ‘Amy’.”

“Well, I can’t blame you, I don’t know your names either. I’m a face person. Terrible with names. As for me, people can never remember my name because I look like everybody. I’m the girl next door. Non-descript, yet familiar.”

“Bryce.” I said, reading his nametag. Then I looked to the other barista, “And your name is…?”

“Eric.”

“Hi, Eric.”

“Hi.”

“Well, now you’re the person we had this conversation with so we won’t forget,” said Bryce.

“You mean the ‘Amy’ you had the conversation with,” I joked.

“Yes, thank you, Amy.”

“Thank you, Bryce.”

Hmm. Now they know me. They know my name. And I’m not sure how I feel about that. Because things happen to me here. Things beyond the coffee drinking and the sandwich eating.

This is where the door to my soul opens. This is where I read others’ words that move me. This is where I write my own words that expose me. This is where I dig down deep and acknowledge that the letters I put on a page mean more to me than I care to admit. They speak my truths.

Sometimes they flow so freely, it’s like phrases are dancing through the room just waiting to land on the page. Other times they gasp for air, wanting desperately to be given life — no matter how hard I struggle to find them, to shed light on them.

And it turns out, this intense process and struggle isn’t entirely internal. There are days — a lot of them really — when my thoughts are accompanied by tears. Sometimes a simple drop rolls quietly down my face. Those are the days I think my emotional explorations may have gone unnoticed by the faces around me. But some days? Well, some days I can truly feel my heart opening up, and it doesn’t look so pretty. My awkward eye wiping and sniffling becomes dramatically more obvious, and — I imagine — totally strange to the average onlooker.

I had one of those days last week. The last time I was here. I walked into this Starbucks with a puffy face and a hurting heart — trying to make sense of a painful situation by turning it into a story. That’s how I work.

I wanted desperately to imagine that I was anonymous that day. That if the baristas — and the other familiar faces surrounding me — didn’t really know who I was, that they might not notice my heartache, my struggle. And I’m guessing, that’s the day they realized it. That they didn’t know that lady’s name. Because that day I wasn’t the girl next door. I was the lady who was crying.

But now? Now I’m Amy. Not just the lady who cries. The Amy who cries. And I feel like I need to explain it. To tell them that if they read the words that I ripped from my soul that day, they would get it. That’s silly, I know. They’re simply being friendly by saying hello. It’s even a bit of a game, I bet, to remember people’s names and orders. They don’t need to — want to — know the whats and the whys on my screen.

But I do. So I return. To Starbucks. To my keyboard. To my soul.

And I write.

 

Note: I wrote this a few weeks ago, but didn’t really know if it had a place here on my parenting blog. But today, as I teared up again reading and writing, I figured this is my place to share my truths. All of them. And this is just one of those. So here it is.

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Filed Under: featured, Mom Musings Tagged With: Starbucks, words, working mom, writer, writing

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Comments

  1. Rachel D says

    April 7, 2014 at 8:36 pm

    I loved this post. And it’s entirely appropriate for your blog because I don’t think of your site as merely a “parenting blog.” You cover so many other topics that go beyond parenting.

    Reply
    • Amy, Using Our Words says

      April 7, 2014 at 10:17 pm

      Thanks so much, Rachel. It’s great to hear how things are seen from outside the walls of Starbucks. 😉

      Reply
  2. Aimee Whetstine says

    April 8, 2014 at 6:21 am

    This. was. beautiful. Keep it up. How I wish I could meet you at Starbucks for a cup!

    Reply
    • Amy, Using Our Words says

      April 8, 2014 at 12:57 pm

      Me too! Thank you, Aimee.

      Reply
  3. Julia says

    April 8, 2014 at 10:54 am

    This is beautiful. Wow. I wouldn’t be surprised if Starbucks wanted to use it in some way! 🙂 Thank you for sharing this.

    Reply
    • Amy, Using Our Words says

      April 8, 2014 at 12:58 pm

      Ha, I should have pitched it as a sponsored post. Or maybe Bryce will comp me a cup if he discovers I made him famous. 😉

      Reply
  4. Kelly says

    April 8, 2014 at 1:00 pm

    One of my favorite posts from you! And I agree with your friend, Julia, too. 🙂

    Reply

Trackbacks

  1. School’s Out for Summer says:
    July 22, 2014 at 8:47 am

    […] other day I ran into a friend at my office (aka Starbucks). He asked what my kids were up to this summer and the subject of workbooks came up. […]

    Reply
  2. At the End of the Day says:
    November 12, 2014 at 4:45 pm

    […] And while I didn’t return all the things piling up on my bedroom floor like I thought I would today, I spent time on a volunteer project that I believe will make a really important impact in our school district. (Plus, maybe taking time for a cry after a friend—who can relate all too well—commented on my Huffington Post piece about grief was worth the time…even if it was at Starbucks). […]

    Reply

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I’m Amy, the girl next door. I’m your average obsessive mom/ happy wife/ freelance copywriter/ slice-of-life blogger/ social media addict/ chocolate lovin’ wino. Read More…

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