a tea break

i sat by the window,
laptop open,
warm tea sending up tiny smoke signals.

there was a breeze blowin on the other side of the window.
it seemed to be delighting the leaves in the trees and the long purple flowers
that i think are lavender.
one row of plants with long leg like leaves caught the breeze and
i swear they started doin' the can-can.
i smiled as i watched.

the talking nearby never wavered.
they  had pulled two tables together and settled in.
the only female looked bored. wandered around a bit extra
when she got up to refill her coffee, busied herself putting on her makeup.
i heard talk of the water – crabs and rock fish, and the politics imvolved in
the management of such things.
for a brief moment i thought of tuning in,
learning something to impress my man.
i pictured throwin' out some random fact about the water men
and their struggle with the ins and outs of rock fish.
i pictured his surprised face and my sly smile.
it was a fleeting moment,
the talk couldn't keep my attention.
i started to wish i wore makeup and had some to concentrate on like
the woman did. i understood why she was so involved with her lipstick.
having no mascara to pull out and having lost attention in the rock fish,
i turned to my own thoughts.

i was at it again -
trying to figure out who i really was.
i got up to refill my tea and bumped into that very same bored makeup woman.
she was refilling her coffee again and just wandering around.
we said hello and started chatting.

she'll be 80 years old next month, from japan, and heading back for a visit soon.
she lost a lot of her family last year and spoke sadly of that.
but it was when she mentioned  losing her father when he was 40 that her eyes teared up.
she talked of how he took her everywhere with him.
and how special he made her feel.
and how she missed him.
he died when he was 40.
she's 80 now.
and still the tears.

i walked back to my little table,
sipped on my tea and wondered.
who are we?
do we grow and change and become more?
or are we always the same ol' mix of things we carry forever?
or are we both?

do we always long for the things and the people that make us feel special?
do we ever really believe that we are special just the way we are and that even when those
who made us feel that way are gone, do we still feel it and know it?

do any of us ever really see ourselves and love what they see?
and does anyone really hold the idea that they are a sacred vessel
loaded to the brim with stars?

i finished my tea and headed home wondering.