A Barista for Christmas

Denim

Herum

I'm not looking for romance anymore. Most would say 36 isn't even that old, but I feel old. I'm tired all the time, my body already seems like it's giving out on me, and I've accomplished what most would have by the age of 50 in their lifestyles. I'm simply worn out.

My wife, she would always smile at me and tell tales of us having a little girl with her blonde hair and my brown eyes. She liked brown eyes, she said they held warmth that her blue ones couldn't capture. I didn't agree, when she looked at me I could always feel the intensity of her emotions, that included the love in her eyes as I handed her flowers and bought her children books. She had a fascination with children books. I think it's because she didn't have much in her childhood. Although she was a housewife it didn't stop her from spending a lot of her time with children. She was always out and about volunteering. She would read books to children, volunteer at hospitals to give children popsicles and candy for good behavior, pretty much anything that would make a child happy. I believe that's why she passed. Not because of the cancer, but because she could never have children. This was her third scare of cancer and they told her it would put too much on her body and risk the child's life if she tried to produce. I don't think she could handle it. Her entire life was riding on the chance to have her own kid, when that was taken away from her I think she gave up.

Today held the third anniversary of her death. I had promised her that I would never visit her grave on the day she died as she knew it would eat at me. I was to go out and do something I enjoyed. She wanted me to remember her with good times, not pretty flowers on a grave stone. I did visit the cemetery of course, but never on the day she died. She made me promise to allow myself to love again and to dedicate some time to children at least twice a year. She didn't want me to mourn in her death, she wanted me to live for her, for everything she was. Although my wife, Emily, was no longer around I wanted to give her what she always wanted, a little girl with her blonde hair and my brown eyes, she would be named Emilia.

Today I would be looking for real estate in Coronado. I needed to upgrade the size of my home and I know that Coronado is considered to be child friendly. Emily always wanted a home out there, but when we were newly wed our income wasn't as stable as mines is today. I've been living in a two bedroom home in North Park. It was cute and the neighborhood has increased in value, but I want a larger home in a neighborhood where my backyard can be larger than the size of two patios.

I stopped by my local coffee shop before I would head out to the home listings I saw online. The line was long, as always, and there were no tables available. The employees were working as hard as they could, one even had flour on her cheek.

"Hey Julia, got here as fast as I could". A young male was rushing in trying to tie an apron around his waist.

"Oh! Thank God. I'm so sorry for calling you on your day off but Christie is in labor right now and well, you know". She was still making three cups of coffee while talking to him, this is why I love this shop. They talk a lot because they're all very close, but their customers are their priority. I've never seen him though, which is odd because I come here often.

"It's honestly no problem, I need the hours. Can you sign me in on this register?" He licked his lips consistently until he decided to put some chapstick on. His hair was slicked back stylishly and underneath the apron held a denim shirt with rolled up sleeves. I had a hard time believing that he rushed out of the house to get here.

Once she finished bagging him in he began to take orders. He would pull one side of his lip up and push his eye brows down when people would change their order - which was more often than not - I found it amusing. He finally got to me, a bright smile was held on his face and I couldn't help but return it. "What would you like sir?"

"Just a hot chocolate and a croissant".

"Got it", he mumbled to himself mostly. I paid and walked to where the others were waiting. He started to hum after he left his register. Julia decided to take over. I couldn't tell what he was humming, but I enjoyed the way his voice would silence on the high notes and crack as he changed octaves. He didn't seem to mind the imperfectness of his voice and I don't think anyone around him did.