I have set aside a small part of my brain for special occasions. I go there when I want to escape the runaround of everyday life and find a moment of peace. It is my solace, or refuge from the crazies. It's nice, you should swing by sometime.
It is my own personal coffee house.
I love coffee. Truly. But I don't think I am IN love with it. I am enamored by the idea of a coffee house. Dirty walls, wrought iron miscellany, and an old guy playing the bass and wearing an eternally hopeful grin.
...and of course the decor must contain some type of red or burgundy fabric, felt-like in nature.
Things connect to my soul better if they have a coffee stain on them. It just brings me to life. Maybe it is the artistic hippie/snob in me trying to break free, I don't know. I do know that it is a place I can go to reflect.
Sometimes, I end up in a real coffee house - Starbucks or the local mom-and-pop. Sometimes, I just brew a cup o' joe and steal away to a quiet spot on the back yard. But I always end up in that same little place in my mind.
I love to bring my bible there and ponder the things of eternity. Will you join me?
