Cold Coffee
Coffee lovers will agree that there's nothing better than that first steamy hot cup of coffee in the morning. Whether it's brewed or instant, black or sweet, it's just something you really look forward to. It becomes an enjoyable "kickstart" for your day.
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But have you ever fixed it just the way you like it, savored your first sip, put it down for a moment, and then got sidetracked or called away? Sure you have ... and when you finally get back to it, you can bet that it's just not the same. It's what I call a "lukewarm letdown."
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Well, life is full of such "letdowns." We've all had them. You get all excited about something and with high hopes you prepare for it. Then along comes an unwelcome interruption or a reaction you just weren't hoping for. Before you know it, disappointment, anger, and sadness set in, and you have now become a victim of your own expectations.
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This page is for sharing those "cold coffee" moments. It is to relieve the burden that carrying certain memories can cause. Sometimes it just helps to vent, to know that others have experienced similar hurts and similar attitudes, and to express those emotions. This page is NOT for placing blame ... we realize that at some point or another, we too have been the one(s) doing the disappointing. It is hoped that by sharing, we can "file away" these memories as learning experiences, rise above the victim consciousness, and take charge of our future thoughts, actions, reactions, and expectations. Please take time to share your story ... and send it to sandra@soul-in-control.net.
ROUTE 120
During the last few years of my dad's life, when driving was more difficult for him, I'd drive him up Route 120 for his hospital and doctor appointments. We'd chat, listen to music, and count the cupolas and house stars along the way. After his appointments, we'd go to The Fort for breakfast 'cuz dad was really missing his coffee by then! Those are fond memories, and such a vivid picture comes to mind of dad during those years ... his trusty "captain's" hat, his cane, and his "old man shuffle."
Route 120 was a scenic, secondary road in New Hampshire, and it was also my daily commute to work. It was a 25-minute ride with average speeds of 50 to 55 mph on the long stretches, 35 or 40 approaching the small towns, and 30 or less through them. It was a tricky "speed trap" of a commute, but it was a beautiful drive, especially in the fall when the colors were "popping." ​
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Some days the traffic was light and some days the traffic was heavier. You just never knew with Route 120. But for the most part, drivers kept a pretty consistent pace and there weren't too many problems. Oh, sure, you'd get the occasional speed demon who just had to pass you doing 75 or 80 while you were moving along at a respectable 60 mph in the 55 zone. "What's your damn hurry?" I'd shout!
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But the worst, the ABSOLUTE WORST, of the offenders on Route 120 was the "Sunday driver." You know the one ... going 40 in the 55 mph zones, just ignoring any and all opportunities to pull over while a dozen cars fell in line behind him. That type of driver really had a way of getting under my skin.
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Well, on this particular Monday, yes it was a Monday, I was running a little late getting to work. So as luck would have it, I came up behind Mr. (or Mrs.) Sunday Driver who was barely doing 40 in the 55 mph stretch. There were cars coming the other way, so I couldn't pass him. "Pull over, you bum." I thought. Three more cars came up behind me. Then two more. Then another two. I can only imagine that they were all feeling the same frustration. "Can't you see there are cars piling up behind you? Don't you use your rear-view mirror?" As I continued with my angry thoughts, a wicked plan began to take shape in my mind. "If this guy stops at the deli up ahead, I'm going to pull in there and give him a piece of my mind! I might not be able to get all of them, but at least I'll give one of 'em the business!"
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More cars continued to fall in line behind us as we came into the 40 mph zone approaching the town limit. He slowed down to 25 and I continued to hope that he would stop at the deli so I could confront him there. I watched with anticipation and let out an exhuberant "Yes!" as he pulled into the parking lot. "Okay, this is it," I thought ... "the moment I've been waiting for." "Now I can ask him why he won't drive the proper speed, why he won't pull over, and why he ignores the traffic behind him. Yessiree, I'm ready!"
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So I sat there in my car watching to see what manner of human being would step out of that old sedan. "Come on, man, what's taking so long?" I thought. "He must know what he's in for!" A minute went by, then another, and finally the driver-side door opened. I got ready to open my door so that I could meet him at the deli entrance ... BUT ... but just then out of that car, with a slight degree of difficulty, came a little old man with a captain's hat, a cane, and an "old man shuffle." I watched as he slowly made his way to the entrance where some "nicer than me" gentleman opened the door for him. I sat in my car for a few minutes, frozen and ashamed. Cold Coffee.