Return to Me

One

Winter finally sets in, the brisk cold air turning my nose and cheeks a rosy color.

The town is peaceful, many still asleep as the sun gently made it's way up in the sky. But it doesn't matter to me. I enjoy the quiet and listening to the snow crunch under my boots, making prints in the fresh blanket--leaving my mark. I was the first to see the world today, and soon others would join me.

It's 7:30 when I push through the door of the cafe I spend most of my mornings. Warm air immediately enveloping me.

"Good morning, Rosie." smiles Mrs. Elizabeth Turner, the kind woman who owns the cafe.

"Good morning." I smile as I make my way over to a table by the window.

Mrs. Turner makes her way over to me, my usual cappuccino in her hand. She places it on the table before taking a seat across from me. 

"So what's new? I haven't been able to stop by as much lately." I say, ready for a nice conversation with a friend.

"Work's been keeping you busy?" she asks and I nod, encouraging her to continue.

"There's been talk around town that someone bought the restaurant next door."

"What's wrong with that?" I wonder taking a sip of my hot drink.

"The problem is they're saying this big shot might try to buy me out and combine the two buildings!" Mrs. Turner exclaimed, worry obviously present on her face, but I can't help but chuckle at her.

Mrs. Turner looks so bewildered at my laughter. "What on earth is so funny, Rosie? This is my business we're talking about here!"

"I'm sorry, Liz, I don't mean to laugh, but I just don't see that happening. Everyone loves this place--it's not going to be bought out." I reply trying to ease her nerves. I see her take my words into consideration and a moment later, she nods in agreement.

"Okay, so I suppose you are right."

"See? Told you." I laugh as Mrs. Turner shakes her head at me.

We continue chatting for a while more, catching Mrs. Turner up on what's been going on in my life. Which has been mainly work that has been keeping me busy. Being bombarded with paper work this past week and then my boss has myself and a few coworkers working overtime.

Working at a publishing house can be stressful, however, I never imagined it to be like this. My boss is a workaholic and assumes that everyone else is as well. From what I've heard, he's not the friendliest man in the world either. Since I've only met him once, I can't pass judgement, but I'm sure work has taken a toll on the now sixty-three year old man.

"You have off today?" Mrs. Turner asks, noticing my casual dress wear.

"Yes, but I'll probably end up reading a bunch of transcripts throughout the day."

"Oh, leave that for tomorrow. Go have some fun for a day." The door to the cafe swings open, and enters a small group of people. Mrs. Turner pats my hand then rushes over to the counter to take orders. The morning rush has begun.

While Mrs. Turner was busy with her morning rush, I continued to sit by the window and look out at the city. Bodies were finally making their way onto the streets--all in a rush to get to work.

Christmas lights were everywhere--in windows, on the street lights--the whole city seemed to shine. It's mid-November, Thanksgiving almost here and everything screamed Christmas. But I love it. The holidays seem to put everyone in a better mood and it's the best time of the year.