the window.

There by the window I thought I might love him,

but there by the window I shook my head “no”.

Fear looked at me and I lowered my head,

the steam in my coffee knew that it was the end.

I wonder how I looked to others as I sat by myself at the far too familiar coffee shop, my eyes looking downcast and my shoulders slumped. I wonder if anyone payed any attention to me, the lonely girl in the corner, holding her coffee that had gone cold long ago. I wonder if they thought about me. So often, I walk into a coffee shop and notice things, notice people, and notice how they sit. Some sit agitated and nervous, waiting for someone special to arrive. Others sit behind laptops or books, searching for their piece of mind. I often think about them and wonder who they are and what they came to the coffee shop to escape from. 

I wonder if people do the same for me. I wonder if they noticed the sad eyes and distracted smile. 

These are the moments and these are the days.

And these are the reasons why I’m not the same

one who sat by the window unwise and afraid.

Tomorrow I know I’ll be better. 

One day, I walked into the coffee shop and ordered my usual chai latte. I was surprised to hear that someone had already paid for it. I tried to figure out who might do that, but with a quick scan of the quiet coffee shop – no one looked familiar to me. I was humbled by the kindness of a stranger, and suddenly my day didn’t seem too terrible at all.

By the window I wrote letters to people I hated

and mine was the name at the start of them all

but the crippled and cracked wooden table forgave me

and I learned to forgive myself.

I can’t count the times I’ve escaped to that faithful old coffee shop to escape the trials of life. I’ve even curled up in one of the chairs, hiding behind a book so people couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. There’s something about being nestled in the steady hum and warmth of a coffee shop that makes me feel okay.

By the window I found it’s okay not to be okay

and the brave ones admit that they’re afraid

and I found that we don’t have to wander alone –

We won’t if we are together. 

Let’s sit by the window together.

Jane Marczewski




One thought on “the window.

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