Doorbell rings but there’s no need.
Beckoned in by the scent – hot coffee, vanilla, full hearts
and hands cupped around beloved mugs mixed with warm cinnamon apples.
Plaid chairs sit squished, sunken in the best way.
History lines the shelves.
Books and memories, Father Time a welcome guest.
I’m perched by fluffy paws and floppy ears curled up on knit.
Bears tackle in the background, the usual soundtrack.
Watching not for a win,
but for a chance to reunite with a familiar friend,
slap the back of a college pal,
give a shout for where it all began.
Back rubs come with the company, two for the price of one.
I’m lulled into restful bliss,
soaking in the moment of complete comfort.
My eyes close and I’m always a kid again,
at home with the people, the hugs, and the ambiance.
The hand on my back stops, a soft pat.
I lean back on cushiony leather and listen.
The conversation wanders from God to people,
food to friendships, Bible to basketball, church to advice.
Every word with purpose, every word smart, clever.
All in love.
I take notes in the back of my mind.
Try to remember it all. All of this.
These grown up moments,
and all that they gave me as a kid.
Blue, oh so lonesome for you.
Country apple lotioned hands,
pollen coated woods
and restaurants that spin.
We tomahawk chopped like champs.
Pass the casserole. Grab an afghan.
Forever greeted by smiles and nightgowns,
khaki shorts and Baylor sweatshirts.
Open arms, listening ears, & kisses on the cheek.
Love you, sugar.