Boulder and a Latte

I am forever jotting little things down on scraps of paper then tucking them away. This one came from a book that I must not have been in the mood to read. I love the way that I can be taken back to another place at some unexpected moment.


I am sitting at a retro coffee shop on Broadway just up the road a ways from the Pearl Street Mall in Boulder Colorado. I am enjoying a warm and toasty nutmeg spiked latte from a small shop that is extraordinarily busy for its small size. It's in an older strip mall that looks like it's been here for a hundred years and reeks of character and indiscernible sweetness. It has defied anyone's suggestion to spruce it's self up.

The weather has turned sharply chilly after a balmy eighty-eight degrees yesterday. The weather in Colorado can shift so quickly. When I left this morning I put on my winter coat for the first time this year and relished the change.

I navigate my way past the long lines and head for an empty table outside. Felix, a small black pug in a green plaid wool sweater keeps sniffing at my shoes. The woman at the end of his leash is at the table beside me contemplating the newspaper while sipping her tea. She occasionally scolds Felix for slobbering at my feet while tugging him back to her table.

A thick fog is laying over the valley in strange layers. The impressive mountain tops are hidden in its velvety gray cover. This latte is so good that I am wishing they came in a forty ounce size.

Boulder is such an eclectic mix of generations and social boundaries. It is surrounded by powerful mountains and fast moving rivers and streams. I love this place. I think it reminds me of Tumwater Canyon from when I was a child. I will miss this place. My senses perk up each time I am here and I feel vibrant and alive.

The is one of my favorite places to people watch. There are hundreds of college students peddling themselves off to future careers. It seems everyone in this town owns a bike. You have gypsy skirted, birkenstock bouncing, dreadlock dangling granolas with their soy lattes and basket woven purses chatting in groups past the tables of mountaineers outfitted in pure Northface fashion who sit planning their next thrilling adventure.

An older bearded man in a wheelchair, layered in thread bare clothes, is sitting on the corner asking for change from the patrons while uneasily glancing around him. No doubt he is on the look out for any "official" who will ruin his morning pledge drive. He is speaking in a muffled rambling way with a Vietnam Vet who is offering him a cigarette.

Just now a group of corporate elite swish past in three hundred dollar suits with recycled cardboard drink holders full of various drink navigating the lines with pleasant smiles and determined hurriedness. I am surprised to see one woman drop the change in her hand to the man on the corner. He dips his head in thanks and the Vet takes a respectful step back to let her pass. So much diversity and outward pleasantness. This is a busy and upbeat town.

Mingled conversations from the present and past blend with the fog. The sun peaks through from time to time. It makes the spectacular color values of the turning fall foliage gleam. The idea for a new fall quilt design sneaks into my subconscious. I smell the mountains and the streams mix with the scent of nutmeg and vanilla. I will miss this place. I Reached down to pat Felix goodbye and his owner again tugs him backwards and tells me to have a nice day. I button my coat and stop a moment to imprint the moment in my mind. The sights, the sounds, the view. To take it all in, one last time.

I have an appointment in ten minutes and it is my time to leave. We will be moving in a few weeks and this will be my last trip here for who knows how long. I search through my purse for change motivated by another's show of kindness making a mental note to be grateful for all that I have. I drop my change with a metallic tink into the rusty coffee can and bid the men a good morning. I turn and my seat is occupied by a young woman on a cellphone. I start my car and turn on the heater. Conversations fade behind me and left with them is a small piece of my heart.