Trip To Bountiful

I’m sitting at my corner table.  The one I loved so much.  It’s not Starbucks anymore; now it’s Smashburger.
The music is loud.  The environment is Burgers.
A guy in the kitchen is singing random phrases from songs of the early nineties.  Loudly.
Every few minutes, someone on the staff yells something in jibberish, and everyone else in the matching t-shirts shouts the same unintelligible response.

I feel like I’ve made my own Trip to Bountiful.
The only thing that remains is the view from the window.
It’s not peaceful here.
It smells like mustard, not coffee.
This is not my space.

In this corner, I discovered grace, healing, the psalmists, honesty, the gift of writing through the storm and the sunshine.
I discovered the new, beautiful, strong and unbreakable version of myself.
That’s beautiful on so many levels.

Most of all because I can take my findings with me.

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4 thoughts on “Trip To Bountiful

  1. I was just thinking about your Starbucks this morning… Probably because I found one with a drive-thru after I dropped my mom off at the airport and thought that coffee might be a good idea at 5:15am for this day…

  2. Tricia, you said this so well…. Both of our old cozy, comfy, cushiony Starbucks turned into hard-benched, cold, efficient drive=thru (more profitable) coffee centers (instead of cafes) I’ve felt like a wandering nomad in search of a home to write in…Tattered Cover remains an option but the wifi is slow, and its freezing in there! I’ve narrowed it down to two: Solid Grounds (sometimes taking one of the conference rooms all to myself for serious focus) and the Starbucks near Mimis, that still has plenty of cushy comfy places to park and write. I stay long enough to keep moving until someone leaves and I can get the chair by the corner window:) Maybe one day, we’ll get rich enough from writing to buy our own healing, dreamy, comfy coffee shop. My son, the architect is creating one downtown right now….

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