Monday, March 6, 2017
And so at some time—let us not quibble over when—I began. I knew where I was going and I could either run toward it with my eyes open, with courage and strength, or I could wander aimlessly until I was thrown over.
Stripped down to essentials, I started.
Bauhaus Coffee—where less is more—reminded me of that today. Upon a time, it was a place on Capitol Hill—and therefore it was a time when I was younger. The portrait of Walter Gropius has moved there, just as much of my hair is still black. Yet of all places, Ballard—once the proverbial home of the elderly——is now the new home of Bauhaus Coffee and there I am reminded of how much gray has seeped into my life.
I was the oldest woman, probably the oldest person there.
I could have hunched like a curmudgeon over my cappuccino and given in to the easy allure of resentment. I could have made an appointment on my smart phone for a microblading session so that my eyebrows would match those around me. Perhaps I would take a selfie later with Walter in the background looking on while I took a long swim in That River In Egypt.
But I lift what wisdom I have and run toward the bar.