In Search of Better Stories

Sacred Moments at Starbucks

The little one is no more than 18 months old. She clings to dad as he waits for his morning coffee. The little toe head contents herself with fingering his beard, now a pudgy little appendage gently probes into his nostril. A chubby palm brushes the back of his head.

Exploration — Discovery — Wonder

She looks around the coffee shop, something catches her eye; they grow bright, she whispers her discovery into dads ear. He looks up, smiles and whispers something back. She hugs his neck. The coffee comes and they are gone.

I feel as though I’ve witnessed something sacred. I’ve just experienced the purest forms of innocence, trust and love there is. I fill with joy, but I also sense a tiny pang of sadness. It wasn’t long ago when I had four little probers crawling all over me experiencing discovery and delight. I miss those days. But the sadness cannot stay. The intimate scene observed at Starbucks draws me back into a few moments of blissful reverie. I remember and I am happy.

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