Elmhurst Rhythms

The “Rain” topic eludes me as I sit here waiting for the guy to finish making the lavender latte I ordered. Instead, the rhythms of our community play in my mind. (That patron looks like Jefferson Smith. I see they’re actually working on the big coffee roaster. Hopefully, they’ll be roasting soon.)

On the way over, I observed that the Korean women exercising to music wore white and black. Yesterday, they all had red skirts with white tops. I wonder how they coordinate. Do they Whatsapp each other, decide today what to wear tomorrow, or have a leader who tells them what outfit to put on?

I followed but never quite caught up with my neighbor who was taking her little boy to nursery school. In Moore Park there was ping pong, basketball, people exercising, and bums. Many commuters disappeared down into a rabbit hole. I mean subway station. After all it’s real life!

The Asian market’s door buzzed with shoppers. Its large fruit displays are pushed against the outside wall. Since the Pandemic, the City hasn’t put the brakes on sidewalk vendors, and the Chinese spread out displays of cheaply made household items or racks of used clothing on the sidewalk where I walked to come here. There’s also an old-fashioned shoe cobbler doing a brisk business. The tools of his trade are in a wooden box. And a Chinese food cart with skewers that I am not brave enough to sample.

When I return home, I’ll pass by the Mexicans with their fresh fruits and vegetables and flowers. Every morning, a truck stops nearby to deliver the flowers. The bouquets are reasonably priced and long-lasting – a bright spot in an apartment!

This coffee shop is the only place in Elmhurst that could almost be Kansas. A place where I can leave my money and laptop on the table while I go to the restroom. I look around and realize I’m wrong: The one patron could have been a brother from Kansas, but everyone else looks like multi-cultural Elmhurst.

What are the rhythms of your life? Love, Bee (In here they call me Bee, and it always startles me. It’s my fault. I put that as my name. Someday, I’ll bring little Bee in here. I imagine she’ll be carrying a bubble tea, which she much prefers to coffee.)