This morning, I went to (my newest) regular Wednesday morning coffeeshop downtown. I has big windows along one whole wall, and is bright and cheery and I'm jealous of all the people toing and froing from work in jeans, but it fits the urban hippie vibe.
I was at a big round table, an old farm table whitewashed years ago I'm sure, enjoying my Sunrise Muffin and soy mocha, when two older men (one of whom I ran into in the mens room and who called me the most beautiful man he'd ever seen) joined me on the other side of the table. Soon, a father and his four year old daughter sat down next to me and began practicing letters and numbers on a backdrop of a hand drawn family portrait. The table was fulled up when two more gentlemen joined the remaining seats. I had been pushed all the way into the corner, with all of my books and papers and pens spread acorss the table between our makeshift family. I couldn't help but smile; that's what this town is like. So unknowingly friendsly and invading. It is growing leaps and bounds, and it holds onto it's small town, know everyone feel. It's why I love it. It's why I hate it.
I shortly moved tables, knowing I would need to a) finish my homework b) write about them c) breathe.
But I walked away with a lighter heart. Somehow, God knew I needed even a semblance of human interaction, and he surrounded me with strangers and made sure I still felt loved.
A few weeks ago, I was over a my good friends house, and I laughed for the first time in a long time. I would venture to say, well over a year night a real laugh, the gut busting, face reddening, tear jerking kind of laugh that emanates from your soul and not your lungs, has escaped my lips. It felt so good. Something shook loose--something fell into place. And I feel good.