Change of Duty

I’m in a coffee shop therefore I’m taking the time to write. I should run away from home and go to a coffee shop everyday if it’s going to make me write more. The place is called “Cafe Latte”. It’s a cute little joint in the middle of Windfield.

Andree dropped me off here on her way to Vernon. She’s gone to fulfill her duties as treasurer of the church and I’m here to fix Mom’s hair. Mom is not here at the coffee shop but the manor where she lives is here in Windfield. It’s about 6 or 8 blocks away from where I’m sitting. I think. It’s kind of hard to measure when it’s a long winding road but that’s my guesstimate. My plan is to scoot over there about 11:00 or so.

Poor Mom. Who knows what the hell she’ll look like when I finish playing hairdresser with her. That’s Lorraine’s job usually. But she’s in Edmonton celebrating her 60th birthday with friends, and my other sister Diane who has occasionally taken over this task when Lorraine wasn’t around is gone to visit a friend in Edmonton too. That leaves me on Mom duty. I’ve gone to see her three days in a row now and she’s been quite appreciative of my showing up till now but I’m not sure she’ll be anxious to see me again once I’m done the hair thing.

Monday’s is the day Mom gets her bath and gets her hair washed and once it’s washed it looks like she poked her fingers in the nearest electrical outlet while standing in a puddle of water. She has so much natural curls that if it’s left to sit for too long after it’s been washed it’s next to impossible to get a brush through it so someone has to fix it right away and today that’s me.

This isn’t a bad little place. There are four tables with chairs plus two other big black leather plush chairs by the fireplace a person can curl up in. I chose a table by the double patio doors which look out onto the patio where there are several more chairs. No one is sitting out there today. There’s a wind that’s howling and blowing and relocating anything and everything that’s under 50 pounds or that’s not bolted down. I don’t fit in that category. I’m many times over the 50 pounds and even more so once I strap my backpack with my laptop on my back – so I’m sure I’ll be fine on my walk over to see her.

Oh yes, I was writing about the place. How easily I get sidetracked. There are five pieces of art hanging on the walls, new ones the girl said, that were brought in yesterday. I’m sitting right underneath one of the five and the signature on it says J. Seed. A local artist I presume.

They certainly are colourful pieces. They stand out with their bright purples, pinks, oranges, reds, browns, blues and yellows. Thick abstract swirls that dance across the canvas held in a natural pine frame. When I look at them I wonder where the artist was when creating the pieces. What was he thinking, feeling, seeing, expressing? I imagine it to be an expression of his innermost self at a time when he felt an overabundance of love and joy. But who knows. Who knows.

The place. There is one of those long skinny tables against the wall next to me that holds an assortment of magazines and newspapers in case you come in here without a book of your own. I don’t see it but I guess there are some people who don’t pack around a journal, some extra writing paper, a computer, a couple of books and an assortment of pens, and who knows what else I last stored into the folds of that pack of mine.

This is not a big place and yet there are three sets of French doors with the full length windows so I can pretty much see all around me. That’s why I like coming here. I don’t feel caged in. I can watch the fall leaves being tossed around. My spirit feels free in all that movement. Too free maybe. Instead of capturing this time to work at the online course I’m in the middle of giving, I am enjoying the feel of my fingers tapping the keys and watching my thoughts appear on the screen.

I should do some work but it’s too late. I’m caught in the seduction now. I have to follow the words where they take me. I can’t turn back. It’s like being on a date and crossing the line of no return. An orgasmic purging of words that have been held in check for too long. Words that seek release just like the need to....the place, the place....

The color on the walls is an inviting kind of peaceful blue. There is music coming from the speaker mounted near the ceiling in the corner where I sit. It’s okay. Not the head banging stuff or the senseless noise that some people listen to these days. What’s playing now has a tune and words although I’m not paying a whole lot of attention to what is being said.

Since I sat here there are many people that have come and gone, grabbing coffees to bring with them or staying for just long enough to down it quickly before going on with their day. Right now there’s an older couple – eh, probably around my age I suppose sitting across from me. They are not in any hurry judging by the pile of magazines, books and clipboards piled in front of them. They don’t even seem too hurried to get at any of it. They have a relaxed leaning back posture and they are slowly sipping on their coffees and taking an occasional bite from their croissants.

I’m sitting back too. Relaxed. But with a mind that drifts in and out of every crook and cranny it can get into. Curious, investigating, searching, questioning, contemplating. It’s always on its way to somewhere. It’s always keeping me entertained unless of course I make a conscious choice to discipline it to stay still like in meditation. That’s why I can’t understand how people can get bored. Just jump aboard the mind train and go for a free trip to wherever it takes you.

Speaking of trips. I will be taking one this coming weekend. It will be my turn to hop the plane and go to Edmonton. Seems to be the destination of choice these days. I’m going to have Christmas with my kids. How’s that for getting ahead of the game. It’s not really a Christmas but it will be my only chance to be with all my kids for a while. Listen to me. I still call them kids when they are three of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. Bias. Yes, of course. I have a right to be. I’m there mother.

Back to the place. A mother and her young five or so year old son have entered the place and sat down. The mother speaks to him as if he is an adult and he answers a grown up answer as if he is one. Children are so beautiful. They aren’t full of hang ups like we are. They just are. Not only will I see my daughters and their respective beaus but I will also see my two grandchildren when I go to Edmonton. It’s always a treat to be around them and to love them to pieces.

So, why such an early Christmas? Because Brenda, my youngest and her fiancé, James are leaving for a five month trip to Australia, New Zealand, Taihland, and Asia. Wow, eh! That’s when I wish my mind was powerful enough to master the concepts of quantum physics and I could do the space travel thing. Imagine popping in beside them when they’re in the middle of.....having tea on the veranda of a cute little cafe somewhere.

Back to the place. I went to the washroom a while ago. There’s only one to accommodate the sexes. On the door it says: The Watering Hole. As for the rest of the place, I’m thinking I better never mind. It’s time I quit procrastinating and head out into that wind. On to my hairdresser duties. Another one to tack onto my growing “Jack-of-all-trades” resume.

And here's one to add to the grandma brag book.