A Writer’s Retreat

Last week, while heading on a trip for a couple of days at a writer’s retreat, this particular day was gloomy dark, rainy and snowy to drive in, so I pulled to a small rest area, to escape and shelter myself from the chilling cold weather. Even though there were only a few stores on the premises of the Strip Shopping Mall, it must’ve been my luck that I found one of my favorite places I go to, Panera Bread. Hastily, I barged in.

As soon as I was inside, I began scouring left to right, attempting to get a seat. By the door entrance window, there was a fireplace. An older man, with full white hair, was sitting on a brown couch and reading a book. The scene seemed enticing. The flickering fire, which was igniting from the fireplace made me feel warmer and cozier, like when I was wrapped around in my mother’s soft arms as a child.

I awed the homely feeling of the place. Everyone appeared in good spirits, even though the outside weather was miserably unwelcoming. They seemed to shut-out that reality, deafening their ears and blinding their eyes.

The place was fully packed, so I found the one seat left by the corner and sat down. I put down my heavy grey backpack and took out my fifteen-inch laptop. I marched out the power cord and plugged it into the power outlet, and lay my laptop on the small circular wooden table. I powered on my PC and waited for all the programs to load. After that, I opened a word document and was ready to write.

Before I got lost into a world of no return, however, I went to the robotic ordering machines, which are replacing human cashiers everywhere nowadays. Then, I ordered from the half and half menu; half a cold smoked turkey sandwich with hot peppers and avocado, and half a cup of tomato soup. And of course, a hot cup of black coffee and a bottle of crystal clear water.

I paid a hefty price for a small sized lunch and took the electronic buzzing device that tracks orders. The small pager was light and thin, black, and about eight inches in diameter; it had lots of bulbs, which would flash when an order is ready for a pickup.

After placing my order, I strode back to my seat. Once I sat down, I opened YouTube and tuned to Night of Smooth Jazz from my favorite subscribed channels. Listening to the Blues and Smooth Jazz calms down my nerves and relaxes my mind. I cannot sleep nor write without listening to soothing music. At night, I’d be turning side to side sleeplessly, and my muse would refuse to come out unless my brain dances to cool and comforting music. I let the slow smooth and fine-tunes vibration ring in my ears. Once the tunes reached my soul, then I pressed the first letter on the keyboard and began writing.

My eagerly widened eyes stole a glimpse of the area beside the fireplace. The older man was still reading his book, immersed in what seemed to be a different tranquil world, paying no or little attention to his surroundings. I envied him. He seemed saturated in the story. I truly wanted to be him at that moment, being lost in halcyon dreams, and numbed to the chaos of this world, to quiet down the raging thoughts inside my head. I wanted to be where he sat, where he went, to have that serene feeling for a second. That much, my obvious jealousy was boiling like a sea wave.

I collected my composure and focused back on writing. As I began typing, my hands felt loosened, as if they’d yearned to be in this place. The atmosphere was inviting. I gave the blazing fireplace one last gaze. Before my eyes landed back on my big screen, they met with the eyes of a brunette younger lady in her twenties, who sat right in front of me.

She was having a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. I noticed that she was eating her meal in a hurry. She smiled at me, awkwardly making me feel bad for my stares. After she was wholly done and put down her tray on the collection area, she left the venue in a rush. I thought of her expediency in completing her task, and her courage of trading the cozy warm place for the bitter coldness was fascinating. Besides, it was Sunday, a day every soul should be relaxing and enjoying life, yet, there she was in a rush to go or do something in the cold weather. I thought to myself, what possible reason could she have to run out like that? It felt like she was running away from life itself, or maybe she was rushing towards life. I wouldn’t know.

After she left, I watched her through a plate glass window as she walked in alluring grandeur. When my eyes escorted her to her luxurious car, our eyes communicated silently. She stopped for a second as if she knew and turned giving me a heartfelt welcomed wink before getting behind the wheel. Smirking somewhat, I blushed and giggled slightly, seeing her brand new car. I imagined if I would ever waste my money to buy that type of vehicle, even if I won the lottery. As if she precisely knew what was going on inside my head, she grinned and just vanished into the foggy and cloudy day.

I shook off the idea of chasing after her, so I returned to my writing, to interrogate the keyboard, and trying to catch up with my own thought train, which was speeding sporadically out of control.

The magnetic buzzer went crazy, flashing red lights like an emergency ambulance, to tell me my order was finally ready. I was famished by then, so I run through the masses like a lion chasing its prey, to pick up my lunch. It was placed on a medium sized tray, and was on top of a counter, where the “Pick-Up Orders Here” sign, was hanging down from the ceiling.

I picked my lunch and headed back to my seat.

Once I sat down, I bite into the delicious meal like a scavenger. It might have taken me less time than the younger lady from earlier, to finish my lunch. After my hunger was satisfied and I regained my energy, I went back to poking the keyboard to unwind my mind. Thus, I relaxed on the uncomfortable wooden chair and let my imagination take flight.

By the time my fingers stopped functioning, for they were so tired of typing, the sun had already set on the horizon. Outside the window, the ground was covered with piles of snow I had never experienced before. I sighed and decided it was time to face the music. Just like that, I left the coffee shop, swearing at my own insanity, as I ran swiftly to my beat-up car, which was covered with powders of white blanket snowflakes.