Hi, I'm Dawn Klinge, welcome!  I write here because doing so helps me to take notice of the sweet things in life.

 

        

  

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Sunday
Sep092012

writing in a coffee shop on a Saturday afternoon

 

Hot oatmeal with dried cranberries and walnuts, pumpkin spice latte, my laptop, and a couple of hours all to myself at a Starbucks on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Nearby a little girl, probably three, in a pink flowered dress and springy chestnut curls, sits with her mother in an oversized plush chair, looking at a magazine, asking why, why, why. The mother sips her drink, patiently answering each question,

 

“Why do they look like that?”

They're from a place called Easter Island, where it's a part of their culture to get tattoos.”

“Why don't I have tattoos like that?”

“Because you live in Bellevue, darling, not on Easter Island.”

 

The questions go on and on, each one answered carefully, with love. At the next table, and the one after that, a solitary man, and a solitary woman sit, typing on laptops, just like me. The coffer grinder whirs away in the background, the rich scent of coffee wafting through the air. Jimmi Hendrix, elevator style, is coming through the speakers. The little girl jumps up and starts twirling to the music, garnering applause from a grandmotherly type sitting nearby, bringing smiles to all. Realizing this, the little ballerina shyly hides her face and runs to her mother's lap.

 

My own little girl, not really so little anymore, chestnut hair pulled tightly into a bun, wearing pink tights and satin pointe shoes, is doing her own ballerina twirls in a studio down the street while I watch this little scene in the coffee shop. She was also a little girl who liked asking why, why, why. She still does, just not from me, unless it's to question the rules.  Those constant questions must have worn on me at times in those early days, but I'm unable to recall them now with anything but fondness and pride for my curious, smart girl. My girl also brings smiles and applause with her dancing, but now it's on a big stage in front of hundreds of people. There's no more running to her mother's lap for confidence these days, though she'll always be welcome. She's got her own confidence now. And if she ever asks me if she can get a tattoo, I think I'll use a version of that same answer I overheard from the young mother at Starbucks, "...you live in Bellevue darling, not on Easter Island."us, when she was three

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Reader Comments (8)

Waouhhh Dawn... you have not change !!! You are a so beautiful woman !!!

September 9, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterCristel

agree....

what a sweet read on a sunday morning.

September 9, 2012 | Unregistered Commenterdenise

Oooh, a new writing style. I love it. Love it.

September 9, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterMichelle

This was such a very lovely post. You reminded me of someone else I know who writes similar things, but your heart is so warm and lovely and full of the grace of motherhood. And what a dear picture of you and your little ballerina! Its amazing to think so many years have passed - you look just the same now (and I'm trying not to hate you for it, lol.)

September 9, 2012 | Unregistered Commentersarah

It's fun to watch a little one... any little one... lost in the work of play and wonder if that small moment might turn into something much bigger down the road. I'm glad it did for Grace, and that your quiet time in the coffee shop let you reflect on that with happiness.

September 9, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterTara

I believe that Easter Island would be proud to find itself so useful. And this was beautifully, lovingly, wistfully written.

September 9, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterK

Thank you ladies, for your kind words. : )

September 15, 2012 | Registered CommenterDawn

What interesting observations...I feel as though I were there.

September 18, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterTheresa

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