The Art Cafe

A few months ago while on a mini vacation, I went to visit an old psychic woman in Egypt who was rumored to be fairly accurate with fortunes involving finance. I had come across twenty thousand dollars and had no idea how to use it but maybe her powers might have some insight if I only asked, so I did. She told me she couldn’t see anything other than a child in my future but nothing else. Apparently, children mean purity which can also mean accurate or real. She explained that visions of children also block all psychic ability which is why she couldn’t pick anything else up from “the other side”. Since there was no other message she simply explained that I should be on a look out for a child of some sorts and see if they have an answer to my problem if they should ever arise. I thanked her, paid her the fee she charged then left.

Now, still with all that money at my disposal months later, I still haven’t found a proper use for it. What if I spend it on things that I might enjoy but end up needing it for a medical bill or to fix my car from an unforeseen accident. What if I give it away and the next person uses it better than I could and then I feel jealous for their success while I had the opportunity. I don’t want to put myself in a position where I couldn’t help myself because I was impulsive or build hate inside of me because I was just too ignorant to figure it out on my own. Maybe the child that the old psychic woman was talking about was ignorance. My ignorance. Children are ignorant because they don’t know much by nature and there are parts of me that haven’t grown up so maybe the child I should watch for is inside of me. Even though I’m twenty-seven, I know I don’t know a lot about the world nor can I but that’s the only thing I could come up with while thinking about what she had told me those months ago. Maybe I’m overthinking this money thing and that’s my problem.

“That’s a lesson right there,” I said after finding my usual seat in a cafe I occasionally attend on a sunny crisp day like this.

“No it’s not. That’s a table,” an innocent voice said from behind me.

It was a girl standing with a little cup in her hands a few feet away from my chair. Sitting in a bakery-cafe, it isn’t odd to see children come in and look at the display of yellow cakes and brown cookies running along the checkerboard tile floor while the scent of coffee and baked goods roam wild in the air. Looking away to avoid my noticing her, she buries her face in the cup that has a floral aroma accented with coffee beans.

“Oh, no, I was just thinking aloud. I didn’t mean to call the table a lesson,” I said.

“My mom does that sometimes. She says it helps her but I don’t see how,” she said while slowly moving back and forth making that squeaky noise with her rubber shoes on the floor.

“Well, thinking things through helps you make the right choice in things. Where is your mother, though? You aren’t here by yourself, are you?” I asked.

“My parents are outside drinking their tea and eating a lemon cake they just got,” she said.

“Why aren’t you with them?” I said.

“I can’t drink coffee outside. The outside is for outside things like cars and birds and parents on dates. I’m not any of those things so I’m in here,” she said before taking another sip of her floral scented coffee drink.

“So you do thing’s where they need to be done, is that right?,” I said.

She nodded. I haven’t even met adults who do things where they are supposed to. I never thought of this as a lifestyle before and I’m sure many haven’t either. Everyone usually just eats while they drive or slacks off at work. I even listen to music while trying to read and watch a movie all at once.

The girl pulled out a little black book from her tiny bag that is lying around her shoulder.

“This is for art. I never use it for writing or anything like that. This book is like the cafe and my art is like the coffee,” she said while handing me the book.

The art is as you’d expect from a girl who looks like she is in early grade school. Colourful scribbles and stick figures of family members and flowers. There is even a picture of what looks almost like a coffee cup with exploding pens poking from out of it or maybe just more flowers. I couldn’t tell. I handed it back to her and told her I liked her art.

“Oh, you can have it,” she said, handing the book back to me. “I already filled it up so I don’t need it anymore. Mom says that I shouldn’t keep things if I’m not going to use them.”

I felt weird to accept a gift from a kid I just met while her parents weren’t even aware of us talking in the first place. She was nice though so I happily thanked her for it and put it on my table.

“Why don’t, you have any coffee? You are in a coffee shop” she said. I hadn’t even noticed I hadn't ordered any coffee. That's odd because it’s the first thing I do when walking into a cafe. My overthinking got the better of my cravings, I guess.

“If you can’t choose which coffee flavor to get then you should get what my mom always gets. The Lavender Tusk is what she calls it,” with the suggestion, she runs without a proper goodbye all while making the squeaky noises from her feet till she stepped out the door.

“I want to be just like you,” I thought. Living in the moment, always taking one thing at a time. Overthinking is never an option when living moment by moment.

There was no doubt about it. I want to be like her. The money that I wasn't using finally had a purpose even though I don’t know exactly what to spend it on. This moment, however, I had a purpose to spend some of it. I got up and walked towards the counter.

“I’d like one small Lavender tusk, please