in a perfect world

Upon first entering the café your senses are rushed with the sweet rich smell of everything chocolate.  Hand rolled truffles of all kinds sit on trays in little rows inside the glass display case.  Perfect balls of chocolate heaven resting in their paper wrappers just waiting for you to pick them to eat.  Bittersweet, cocoa beware, Aztec, kalua… delicious orbs that melt into your mouth taking you to a level of sweet culinary ecstasy rivaled only by that of the coffee beverages that are sold just feet away in the same establishment.  The café is warm and invites you in from the cold sidewalk.  The lighting is soft and the hardwood floors and soft chairs that your body just sinks into make for the perfect atmosphere.  As I sit and type, sip my coffee and gaze out the window at the cars passing by, the aroma that wafts into my nostrils is just fabulous.  My chocolate coffeehouse hideaway is like the hug I needed after my day.  It wasn’t a horrible day but I could have used a hug.  I feel better now.  Whether it’s that I’m not at work or that I’m taking some personal time to just write or whether it’s the coffee I’ve just had I don’t know.  It’s been quite the last few days.  I woke up this morning to find that 4 more arson fires had been set in my neighborhood making the total over the last 3 weeks 10.  Since moving into this area about 2 years ago, I’ve embraced it as my own.  Aside from the cul-de-sac house I grew up in, I’ve never felt like I belonged or really liked for that matter, the neighborhoods where my many apartments have been.  I love this area! So as I sit here and look out the window, I see across the street one of the businesses that was set on fire earlier last week.  I’ve walked past that guitar shop many times.  It makes me sad.  I don’t know whether or not it’s because my family has personally been affected by fire or not, but it’s angering to me that someone could do that to someone else’s livelihood.  I just don’t get it.  The barista guy working just sat down in a chair 3 feet away from me.  He’s watching a guy standing on the street corner outside the shop.  We started chatting, the barista boy and I about this neighborhood we both love.  He sits vigilant to protect his shop; I sit watching now too, writing and chatting with him and trying to figure it all out.  In a perfect world filled with nothing but chocolate coffeehouse hideaways and hole in the wall pubs and used bookstores and good people, this sort of thing wouldn’t happen.  But like the book title that I once loved said, “Nothing’s Fair in 5^th Grade” and so we sit vigilant and enjoy the people we love, the simple pleasures in life, and do our small part to better the world.  For better or worse, it is what it is.