Freshly brewed

The usual, white chocolate Mocha, non-fat milk, hold the whip. I’m a Starbucks regular……junkie, I am addicted, superstitous too. I can easily justify my need for caffeine & chocolate, but it’s nearly midnight and all justice systems are closed, after all at midnight, there’s no order in my court.

So while ordering up my fix earlier today, a woman awaiting her fix commented on my bracelet. She smiled to catch my eye & then inquired. Does your bracelet say hope? I had thought she was referring to my L’oreal Hope Bracelet & looked to see if it said “ Hope”? she saw me turning the bracelet to inspect & said no, the teal one, the other wrist. Ah’ I said forgetting that I had two wrists, oh’ no, I responded this one says “ Overcome”. It’s lovely she said. I found that a bit odd since it’s just a plastic teal awareness band-but I smiled back at her to be kind. Giggled quietly to myself as I noticed other coffee addicts stretching their necks to see what was so lovely. Some even made baffled faces as I did on the inside of course.

She asked "What does Overcome stand for? “ it’s an awareness band for Ovarian Cancer, with the hope that together we can overcome ovarian cancer. Oh’ that’s lovely, she said. We both nodded & smiled at one another in agreement. The Barister yelped “ White chocolate mocha, non fat , with whip & handed the coffee directly to me and then took it away & said you’re a no whip right? I nodded, smiled & said hard to believe, settling in for another minute or two as they made another without whipcream.

Did you lose someone to Ovarian Cancer? She asked gently. I said " I’ve lost a lot of wonderful friends to the disease" far to many. Paused for a moment ad added " but I’m a 5 year survivor of Ovarian Cancer. She gasped & grabbed my arm & said “God Bless you” I’m so sorry. So did you beat it? Are you cured? I thought for a moment on how to answer this, how to respond? I said 5 years is a milestone, however the recurrence rate for Ovarian Cancer is quite high, I’m not out of the woods yet, in a clearing perhaps, making my way to the picnic area, but still not out of the woods. I laughed hearing my own analogy.

Another woman listening in, blurted “ My Aunt died of Ovarian Cancer 5 years ago! She left 3 young kids. It’s a horrible disease, no cure.

I’m sorry for your loss I said. Yes there is not a cure, nor a test. A woman sitting behind us said “ I lost my best friend to Ovarian Cancer & my sister to Uterine Cancer in the same year. We all turned around & said “ I’m sorry at the same time. Coffee up--they announced Venti White Chocolate non fat-no whip, as I moved in to the barister station yo retrieve my coffee.

A young man all of 20 ish, awaiting the barrister smiled & said “ I wish you good health” surprised by this , I smiled and said "thank you and the same to you" . He said “ my mother died of breast cancer 15 years ago. Oh!!! I’m soo sorry!!! She must of been soo young? Yes, he replied she was 32. All the women offered their condolences & comfort. He smiled almost embarrassed now & said all I remember is she had red hair-like you-he pointed to me and she loved to dance. he said “I was young”she died when I was 7 years old. I wanted to grab hold of him & hug him, not the man but the little wounded frightened boy, the boy who lost his Mommy. The boy, the little boy. I stopped in my tracks, halted all thoughts & saw the boy of seven & felt the weight of his tragic childhood, his sorrow, his pain, his lonliness, the wound, the wound still present. I imagined tarnished yet implanted upon his soul.

Within my head ( that scary place where thoughts dwell) I began doing the math….2007 minus 15 years equals 1992. 15 plus 7 equals 22, he was 22. Still not sure why I felt it relevant to figure out his age? But I found myself wondering what I was doing in 1992, 93. 94, 95? Was that a happy time? had I been sick? I ran through the years as though had I known I could of helped.
In 1992 a younf boy was alone, afraid, crying and missing his Mom. I quietly raged against the injustice, my heart tore for him and for the loss of a young Mom who I had never met.

I listened as the women consoled him with words of kindness " I’m sure your Mom would be very proud of you. I’m sure she is looking over you. I smiled witnessing humanity.

He was a tall boy, had to 6 feet 3 or 4 inches, I wondered if his Mom was tall? I looked at him with Mother’s eyes & thought she would be proud, how could you not? How many young men, pause in their day to talk to a bunch of over-caffenated ladies? there he was smiling and nodding with such a warm and compassionate smile, he was respectful and considerate.

Without warning the tears rolled, I was embarrased by these unexpected visitors and quickly manuevered my sunglasses to cover my eyes. Thought I was swift in the cover up, but he the motherless boy and the barrister both commented on my tears. I tried to laugh it off and blame it on an emotional week, but the truth is sad things make us cry.

All four of us walked out the door together, talking, reflecting on the beautiful day, each with our own direction, sipping our different coffees , though touching the hearts and mind of one another, although I'm a self-professed Starbucks a-holic nothing beats the flavor of freshly brewed humanity.


Khrissy Lupinacci