Coffee Shop Table

Both of my hands held a white mug that was filled with plain, black coffee. I held it right underneath my nose, the strong smell invading my nostrils. I loved the smell, and I loved the tiny little coffee shop I was relaxing in. I liked to often switch tables in the shop; mostly because I get to experience the different views, but sometimes because that tables were being used.

Today I was setting in a booth that I had never really sat in. It was placed in a very dim corner, isolated from the windows, and just very lonely. Other than my coffee, I hadn't really looked at much else in my line of view. Once I started looking at the tan table, I noticed some writing more in the bottom left corner. I smiled as my mind brought me back to high school, which held many desks covered in writing. I had read many good things on those ugly speckled desks and seen some nice drawings; nevertheless, some things written and drawn were very awful. I shook my head slightly, the thoughts drifting away as my mind went to the writing in the table corner.

I happened to be setting on the opposite side, but soon enough I was pushing my coffee to the other side and getting up to move. The leather seats squished underneath my bottom, and it slightly pulled against the fabric of my clothes as I began scooting over. I squinted a little, but I could read what it said very clearly,

"What is the meaning of life?"

The question was written very clearly in fine print, but as my eyes looked down a bit more, I saw the answer.

"Life is a series of unfortunate events from birth leading to death."

It was true in my eyes, but I saw it as more of a definition rather than the explanation of the meaning of life. My head began filling with many different things: memories that help explain my life, thoughts on why we didn't already know the meaning, or why things like the bible never told me. I sighed lightly and pushed myself out of the seat, then grabbed my coffee and left. I didn't really know what I thought about the question, but nobody else knows how to truly answer it. Teenagers skated around me, and adults pushed past me as I walked on the sidewalk. Some of them had tattoos, some were looking very professional in dark suits, some women looking up and smiling at the people they were walking with; thus, it was true that we were all different from each other. Then I understood what life meant.

The meaning of life is to live. Live so that you can feel, so that you can breathe and you can dance, so that you get to love and you get to feel like you are someone... Because we all are our own person, even if some of us don't realize, and we should get to live before we die. It doesn't have to be a series of unfortunate events when there can be great times too. Everyone has their bad days and unfortunate things do happen, but we need to continue to live before we can't anymore.

When I read the question in that little shop I didn't realize that I would now have MY meaning of life. That meaning is to live.