When COVID hit, my habit of grabbing my laptop and running to Starbucks to work on writing projects fell apart. Post-COVID, I continued to avoid public places to a large degree, feeling as though my work at a college gave me plenty of potential exposure to all sorts of things.
Chai addict that I am, I continued to patronize my local Starbucks via the drive through, even coming to enjoy the days when the line was long because it gave me time to listen to an audiobook or maybe even squeeze in a quick French lesson on Duolingo. A lovely side benefit of these trips was connecting with the baristas, who came to know me first by my drink, then by my name, and I learned to put their names to the voices emanating from the speaker as well.
I stuck to the drive-through for a good long time, getting a quick jolt of socializing with the baristas before heading home to my bright, unpopulated sunroom. I wasn't avoiding the café as much as choosing to go home, get comfortable and work in the quiet.
Today, my house was busy. My daughter was working from home (from the sunroom) and my husband was working through a self-imposed list of chores. Though I hadn't intended to do work, per se, I felt a need to carve out a space away from what felt like chaos on a day where I'd been hoping for tranquility. As I got ready to make my Starbucks run, I decided it was the perfect time not to run at all, but to instead pack up my laptop and claim a table in the café.
In the end, my daughter opted to join me, and we spent more time coming up with Christmas gift ideas than actually working, but that was just fine. I chatted in person with the baristas I usually see just through a window, and tried one of the new Christmas drinks (I'll stick with my chai, thanks). But, most of all, I hung out with one of my favorite people in one of my favorite places without worrying about what I should be doing instead.
It was a pretty nice way to spend a chunk of Thanksgiving Eve, leaving me considering (once again) how the little things are often quite big things after all.
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