My friend was able to unhook me from the internet for a few hours. We walked to the nearest Starbucks and I ordered my regular double-shot, iced-shaken raspberry coffee to get my brain working. As I settled down on one of the couches and stared at the people chatting animatedly, I couldn’t help but notice that the piped in music sang 50s – 60s music. We fell silent. Not because of the coffee, but because of the slew of memories that came dancing with Sinatra’s voice.
We talked about our grandparents. How life was for them. How my grandmother would always tell me to hoard food, learn how to till the earth so that in times of distress we could at least feed ourselves. Little did she know that by the time her grandchildren grew up, there would be hardly any land to till. The available land would be feeding not our countrymen, but leased to feed the hungry people of China who have leased their lands to create goods and foods the occupy every shopping center in the world. Life in the movies back then seemed glamorous, not a hair or curl out of place throughout the action scenes, love scenes and even swimming sequences [even the guys would rise out of the sea, damp and glistening with their hair slick back = combed and perfect].
We talked about our parents. What’s the best way to take care of them. Counting the aches, pains and complaints knowing that in a few years, we would be echoing the same words to our children. Not knowing how to make life easier for them, at the same time still being independent enough to live our lives without them telling us how to do things ‘better’.
We talked about our children. Ah our children…who will always be our “children” inspite the fact that they’re 12… 15… 20…. years old. Wanting to be always be there for them and still learning when to step out and let them live their lives, nurse their hurts when they feel their first love, teaching them about responsibility and hard work [and birth control] – knowing that it is only through their mistakes that they will [perhaps] learn and do better.
Falling silent once more, we stared at our coffee. Not wanting to finish that last sip. It’s like that inch of caffeine gave us reason to stay a little longer. To savor these threshold moments when we pause from our daily routine, from our daily lives… lost in the voice of Ella Fitzgerald.
