If we were having coffee right now… you would be frowning down at the strong, milk less, bitter beverage, unable to drink it but not wanting to interrupt me.
If we were having coffee right now… you would try not to look around the room for the place would be littered with boxes in various stages of being packed. I would wax eloquent about the joys of packing things, sorting them into categories, grouping them and putting them carefully, having put bubble wrap around them and the satisfaction of labeling the boxes. I would tell you a tad hesitantly about the way I keep my thoughts nearly categorised and labeled too, to pull them out when I need them. I would go on to tell you how I have struggled to unbind my thoughts and put them chaotically on the shelves of my mind.
If we were having coffee right now… which by now you would be swirling around impatiently, trying to wish it away, I would tell you about my partner in crime and our various escapades. You would look into the dark liquid in the cup and I would catch you doing that. I would tell you who gifted that oversized cup to me and when and how much it means to me.
If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you about my longing to visit this very beautiful garden with a regal building and an imposing staircase. I would take out a rudimentary guide map torn from a book and trace the route I want to take with my finger. I would pause at the important places and bends in the way, almost as if I were there already, looking dreamy as I contemplate the first view I would have of the place.
If we were having coffee right now… I would look pleased for I would be sure of your attention now. I would take this time to ask you of your work and music. I would ask you if you had saved all the music you had pledged to, the mellifluous strains of which I would listen to looking out contentedly at the lake and the overgrown weeds around it.
If we were having coffee right now… I would point to my work table littered with thick ivory sheets and crayons and scissors. I would show you my half finished attempts at creating props for storytelling. I would talk of my doubts and hesitation in going ahead with tell-a-story to underprivileged children, for I was afraid of not being able to connect or make a difference.
If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you about the pigeons on the tin roof and the racket they make in the mornings. I would ask you if you would like to scatter bird feed to them, which you would say yes to with a wondering look.
If we were having coffee right now… you would tell me triumphantly that you would have to leave the dredges of the brew because it got cold while you were listening to me. I would offer you another cup, though.