We used to sit at the outdoor Cafe, drinking coffee and talking about whatever came to mind. We discussed art, poetry, books, our jobs, where we wanted to travel … we were young, and life was wide open to us. He would drink French Roast, I would drink Irish Cream. There was great joy in those encounters. We thought that it would last forever. It didn’t. of course. We grew up, he got an internship in Paris, and we gradually grew apart. We still correspond from time to time, but we are just friends.
I moved on to a new relationship, and marriage. He drank French Roast, and I still drank Irish Cream. We drank our coffee at the kitchen table, overlooking our back yard and pool. It isn’t the same.
(c) June 2012 Bonnie Cehovet