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I prefer the grocery store to Starbucks. I’m sitting at a wire table outside of Schnucks, facing the sunset. There’s nothing special or firey about this one, other than how it’s light plays between leaves of a pair of fledgling trees.
I worry about little trees near main roads or in parking lots. Aren’t they choking? Is that why they’re all so small? Or is it that they have such a narrow space to grow in, being neatly surrounded by curb borders or pretty red brick. I know the point is to add beauty, but I feel bad for the little trees.
Not bad enough to look away or stare too long contemplating action, just bad enough to sigh before turning back to my lighted screen, enough to be a bit more reflective than I otherwise might when I look up at a mother wheeling her youngest in a cart, keeping near an older but still young child, taking mother steps. One in front of the other at an inconsistent pace, casually hunched over the cart because one feels more patient and kind that way, making sure the small walker can keep up.
I like the sound of 20 carts neatly smuched together rattling in front of usually a male employee who flips a lock of hair out of his face before shoving the unruly mass toward the store.
Not everyone is willing to pay $4 for a cup of coffee and the privelage of free wifi in an atmosphere of mood inducing melodies. But everyone has to eat. And I like everyone better than just a few.
The golden ball of setting sun was just at the edge of the gray rectnagle that’s Sav-A-Lot accross the street. Now it’s gone, leaving a trail of pink and suggestions of yellow painted on stretched out clouds that hung all afternoon over mild weather.
A few minutes ago I dropped a blop of pesto on my jeans and now I’ve knocked the whole container face over on the cement near my feet (lucky miss). At Starbucks I’d feel self conscious. Here I just flip the container over, set it back on the table and keep on writing.
But since I had a coupon for a free drink, I walked an uncertain path accross the parking lot, past a strip mall with a Radio Shack, past the store gas station and now I’m sitting on an unusually large orange living room chair listening to something new agy, which I like too, just not as much as my perch surrounded by everyday people.
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