The Old Man and The Coffee Shop…

There’s an older gentleman ordering a drink at The Coffee Shop, and I can’t help but observe him as he moves about.

His body is ravaged with scars and bruises, no doubt markings of his most recent moments in life and moments of the past. A hospital bracelet still graces his frail and wrinkled wrists. His movements inhibited by a frailty brought on by years of wear and tear. He braces himself against the counter top as he attempts to lean over and see what kind of cupcakes are available today, breathing heavily as he strains himself to complete the task before him. A minute goes by before he appears to have made a decision, only to seemingly forget and return to his process once more, this time with considerably more frustration at his own inability to make a decision.

There are four people waiting in line behind him, each growing more and more impatient. Eyes are rolling. Breaths are huffing. Arms being crossed.

“I think I’ll take a red velvet cupcake today, please,” he says.

“Finally,” a lady in line mouths silently to her friend.

“I just want my freaking coffee,” I overhear another say.

The old man (I’ll call him Eugene from here on out, because I’m in control of the story) fumbles through his pockets for change, counting out crumbled dollar bills and pennies that society completely forgot existed.

More eye rolling.

Finished, Eugene hobbles back to his table, respectfully declining an offer from a gentleman (in the truest sense) to help him.

Meanwhile, the next two ladies in line take just as long as Eugene to decide on their order, despite having ample time to come to a conclusion while the man ahead of them attempted to do the same. Instead of doing just that, they wasted plenty of precious moments to take advantage of the time afforded them, in turn wasting everyone else’s in line behind.

Youth truly is wasted on the young.


One thought on “The Old Man and The Coffee Shop…

  1. Reblogged this on Jenneh Sheetz and commented:
    I had to reblog this out of my sheer adoration for the elderly. If we don’t all become lovely and frail because some providential force took us knowing we would fail at becoming this beautiful, I’m sure we’d wish we were stronger.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s