before the coffee gets cold
She arrived 10 minutes early, I arrived just on time.
She smelled like vanilla and sunscreen, the remnants of summer still sticking to her golden skin. I smelled like santal and old books, a blend of soft nostalgia and quiet afternoons.
She ordered a vanilla latte with coconut milk, I ordered a lavender matcha with pistachio milk.
She wore jeans, a sweater, and sneakers. I wore a linen skirt with ballet flats and a cardigan thrown over my shoulders in case it got cold.
Her hair was curled, each wave perfected with patience. Mine was blown out, sleek and simple, as if I had somewhere else to be after this.
She wore a full face of makeup, I wore skin tint with blush and a tinted lip balm.
She carried a small cross body with just the essentials. I carried a tote bag heavy with books, half-finished to-do lists, and everything I might need for a day that never goes quite as planned.
She leaned forward, eyes wide, voice softer than I remembered.
"Does the fighting ever stop?"
I exhaled, watching the steam swirl from my cup. "No, it only gets worse."
"Do we ever move out?"
"Yes," I smiled. "We live alone now. Every room has a touch of pink, just like we always dreamed."
"Do we finally feel like we belong?"
"That feeling never quite settles into place," I admitted. "But you learn how to live with it and find the people that do."
"Do we ever fall in love?"
"Yes," I laughed. "A few times." I rolled my eyes thinking of the times we were so sure we were madly in love.
"But were we ever loved back?"
"Yes," I said, the warm latte felt like my heart in bloom. "Just once."
A rosy blush crept to her cheeks. "Does he make us feel safe?"
I couldn’t help but blush with her. "Always."
"Are we happy?"
I thought for a moment, letting the scent of coffee and warm pastry fill the spaces between us.
"Happiness is in the little things. A morning sunbeam, a favorite song on a loop, a hand reaching for yours, a spare jacket when it’s cold. If you take the time to find it all around you, it will be easier to find it within. Don’t forget that."
The melodic hum of the cafe was barely a whisper beneath all of the unasked questions. It felt as if we were on the precipice of waking from a dream. We sat for a few seconds in silence soaking in the versions of ourselves that could only meet in these brief, impossible moments.
I told her about all our crushes, the dreams we chased, and the ones we outgrew. I told her the things that seemed terrifying back then turned out to be much smaller than we thought.
"Visit your grandparents more," I urged. "Hug Mom more often. Live more freely while you still can."
She laughed at the thought of time passing quickly, while telling me about her latest obsessions, the books she loved and the songs she played. And then, she reminded me of a perfume, one I had long forgotten.
"I’ll bring it next time," she promised, smiling. “I want to hear all about your life, before the coffee gets cold.”
I wrote this piece after being inspired by a poem I came across. I thought about all the things I wish I could tell the younger version of me and what it would be like to speak to her just once to let her know it will always work out in the end.
I hope you enjoyed,
selara
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