Written With a Latte

This entry will be done in the time it takes me to finish this latte.

I'm sitting in the Tennant Avenue Starbucks in Morgan Hill. I'm listening to Christmas music and enjoying a venti eggnog latte a week before Thanksgiving. I would be home right now watching Ed, but I really don't feel like being home right now.

I just drove back from the Second Harvest Food Bank in San Jose. Volunteers were sorting through the barrels from the Holiday Food Drive. Folks from KLIV and Cisco Systems were there along with dozens of other kind people who came out to help. There was a girl there that I thought looked familiar, though we had never met before. "Evangeline" was the name on her tag, but I couldn't place her face.

Okay, sidetracking... I'm amazed how many people come out to Starbucks at 9:00 PM on a weeknight. There must be at least twenty people here and it is just a constant flow. Pretty cool.

You left a stain
On every one of my good days
But I am stronger than you know
I have to let you go

- from "Disease" by Matchbox Twenty

I just got their album, More Than You Think You Are, this afternoon. I tried to listen to it at work, but the office noise drowned out my computer speakers. As soon as I get home, the CD is going into the player.

I am in a room full of people... talking to one another, sharing with one another and enjoying each other's company. There is perhaps one other person in the cafe, besides myself, who is all by themselves and looking rather lonely. I wonder if I am projecting. I feel like I should go over and introduce myself, but that feeling is fleeting. Fear quickly takes over. I sit here and continue to type, justifying my solitude. I typically welcome and appreciate the solitude, but at this very moment, it just makes me sad.

The latte is done and so am I.