I’m sitting at a table in my son and daughter-in-laws coffee shop. I find myself here almost every day. There was something that pulled me in from day one and last night I realized why I travel the fifteen minutes to get here. It isn’t for the coffee, which is delicious, or the gluten-free options that few places offer.

It’s for the people, the movement, the activity.

I’ve spent most of my time for the last few years alone, at my desk. Unless you count the dogs who’ve yet to begin a conversation with me. They bark, wander, lay quietly on their beds, go outside, but it’s not a human connection. I needed one and didn’t even know it.

A writer needs to be immersed in life, something I’ve avoided. It wasn’t a purposeful decision. I just never found anywhere to go where I could comfortably work. Now that I have that, it’s become an important part of my day. It help’s that KJ’s is a welcoming space, warm, with muted background music, the voices of other guests. It’s a place where I can people watch when I come to a mental stopping point in my story.

What are people wearing? What are they doing? What kinds of foods do they eat? Do they order hot or cold drinks? I can use my imagination all day but without bearing witness to tones, facial expressions, body language, characters lack those personal touches that make them human and bring them to life.

Now that I’ve been reminded how much I enjoy being among people, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to go back to my solitary ways.


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