Face to Face

I had a nice chat with a friend the other day whom I hadn't seen in a while. We bumped into each other outside of a local coffee shop as he was feeding the parking meter. Come to think of it, I've never not seen him at a coffee shop. He's a screenwriter and, as we all know, writers love a good coffee shop. You can really get in the zone-- ear buds in and head down, undisturbed for hours. When you're ready to resurface, there's always a barista to chat with or strangers to observe with their interesting habits. We played catch up and he talked about how he's the caretaker for his elderly mother and how she doesn't leave the house anymore but is still "full of life." I told him I'd been enjoying painting again and how it's nice to have a hobby that fuels the soul. He said, "being an artist is fun, isn't it?" We both chuckled. "Don't tell anybody," he said with a smile.

Our conversation echoed in my mind long after we went our separate ways. Perhaps for the simple truth that there's so much beauty in spontaneous, real human interaction. How sharing stories builds a lasting impression and creates understanding and awareness of others and of oneself. How we're all in this thing called "life" together. After all, these stories don't expire after a certain amount of time. We live these moments face to face and they can last a lifetime.


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